


all the king's horses and all the king's men

by llien



Series: Though I did what I thought I had to do, I still lost you [5]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Aqua and Vanitas centric but all the other characters are very present, Emetophobia, Everyone loves Sora, Gen, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redemption, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, subtle soriku because I can't write gen fic without it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-02-08 10:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21474370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llien/pseuds/llien
Summary: Vanitas had learned that the only path to strength was through pain, and undoing that would take every inch of patience Aqua had.Or, the one where they all learn to heal.
Relationships: Aqua & Sora (Kingdom Hearts), Aqua & Vanitas (Kingdom Hearts), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Riku/Sora (Kingdom Hearts), Sora & Vanitas (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: Though I did what I thought I had to do, I still lost you [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1525478
Comments: 72
Kudos: 345





	1. humpty dumpty sat on a wall

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic of both Aqua and Vanitas. Aqua, because she's burdened with the most....self incriminatory responsibility, believing she has to do it all and be as good as she can be. Vanitas, because his only father figure abused him, and he probably needs someone to help him walk down a healthier path. A hurt/comfort fic dedicated to learning and growing and maybe, finally, letting go a little.
> 
> Of course, I can't help making Sora important. He's a pivotal character in both their lives after all. I'd argue Aqua has a soft spot for Sora and Riku, seeing as how they saved her. The other two fics are canonical prequels however reading the isn't wholly necessary prior to this — though, Axel and Aqua's friendship will continue here. 
> 
> _“In me, something is broken. I try over and over again to understand what happened.”_  
Anaïs Nin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out dreamisoup's art thread for Departure! This as much their au as mine, so please give them some love for it ♥♥♥
>
>> DEPARTURE AU 💫🏰
>> 
>> — ʙᴇʟʟᴊᴀᴍɪɴs ᴊᴜɴᴋʏᴀʀᴅ △ (@dreamidoodles) [March 23, 2020](https://twitter.com/dreamidoodles/status/1241924892204900353?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)

[ ](https://twitter.com/dreamisoup/status/1332138364418617344?s=20)

Aqua didn’t know what to expect of Vanitas.

He’d followed them, lost and confused and little furious, hand over his heart like he still couldn’t believe a mangled bleeding thing could be whole again. Aqua had seen it. They all had. Vanitas had risen from nothing, into darkness and light, yes. Little faint specks that glittered like stars in the sky, and he’d been too dazed to fight it when Sora had thrown his arms around him in triumphant joy.

When Yen Sid had promptly announced he was _ retired, _ and he was not here to mother hen a bunch of aimless teenagers, Aqua had graciously understood and shepherded them all back to the Land of Departure, to fulfill its intended purpose.

She was its master, now, and so she would see to her duty.

She relocated herself, Terra, and Riku to master’s rooms, and left an entire floor for the apprentices, even though Sora whined at being separated. They all chose their own rooms, and she didn’t comment when Vanitas took the very last one on the hall, beside a balcony window that opened up over the training grounds and was the closest to the distant mountains. Next to him was Sora, then Ven, and Roxas across from them, and the rest unfolded like they’d latched onto Sora, the pied piper. 

She didn’t comment when Vanitas stayed in Ven or Sora’s shadows, and she bit her tongue when one of them inevitably dragged him to meal times. It was pathetic, she thought morosely, sitting at a banquet with darkness incarnate. _ She _was even more pitiful, still caught in her delusions that had cast her to the nether realm in the first place. 

Hadn’t she learned her lesson?

She refrained from looking at him, afraid of whatever she might see in his intelligent, furious eyes. There was no mercy there, no love for her. Everyone else looked up to her and whispered her name with awe. _ She _was master of the realm, and no one else. 

Aqua pushed herself harder. She scripted personal training regimes for them all, frustrated by Sora’s, Roxas’, and Xion’s sloppy footwork. Riku, she delegating to exploring, making sure the worlds were safe and the heartless gone, that no essence of them remained. 

Between her and Terra, they had their work cut out for them. Corralling teenagers was one thing, but when _ Axel _decided to skip training, her temper would snap. 

Something was coming. She didn’t know what, but she _ knew _ nothing would remain at peace for long ever again. There wasn’t time for breaks, or picnics, or vacationing to other worlds, no matter how often Sora begged for it. She had to be the final say, she had to _ teach _them, she couldn’t afford to fail them. 

What she had demanded of Sora had been done — it was her turn now.

Xion was sweet, and neither she nor Roxas ever complained, even though she’d overhear them complaining to Sora. That stung, though she didn’t show it. She was barely two years older than them.

Vanitas was the only one who never gave her trouble.

He accepted her regime, and turned his nose up at breaks. He did his forms and his magic, and then he went to his room, or the forest, or the mountains. Sometimes, he sought Sora out. 

She’d banned him from being alone with Ven, and he surprisingly hadn’t argued it. It unnerved her, to be listened to by him. She hated it.

She hated everything, and was sick of her own hate. She hated how the castle was as clean as the day she’d locked it — time had not passed in its great white halls, and it felt like she’d traveled back in time. It made her grief immediate, somehow. Every corner she turned, she expected to see Eraqus. Sometimes, she swore she could hear his voice calling for her, but when she ran down the hall he was never there. Aqua wished it had decayed some. That there were vines to rip off its exterior, that dust covered everything. That they could’ve had a day cleaning it top to bottom, laughing and making a scene of it. That it didn’t feel like she’d simply walked back into her home, like a single day had never passed. 

Sometimes, when the castle was quiet, only the sound of her own breathing in her grand room, she’d bitterly wish she could stay asleep forever. 

She was tired of walking forward.

* * *

Aqua started her day early. 

It took more effort to get out of bed than it had before. She’d been particularly indulgent — the softest sheets she could find, a mountain of pillows, all done in the brightest colors possible. Her entire room had been magicked to be as bright as it could be during the day, and as dark as possible at night. Her foray into the realm of darkness had given her an appreciation for day and night. She slipped from between cool sheets to close the one window she always left open, and methodically got ready for the day before the sun was even properly up.

She did a quick sweep of the castle, checked the gem behind the thrones for any news — none, there was never any, but still she checked, every morning and every night — then walked to the kitchen where Sora was.

The castle was too large, even with nine guardians living in it’s halls. The marble echoed her clacking heels back to her, an oppressive, demanding sound forcing her to walk straight. She always walked down the center of the hall, though before she had ever met Ven and seen what _ emptiness _looked like, she’d walked close to the walls, curious fingers trailing embossed edges and beautiful paintings. She’d traced the murals depicting older masters, of magic and mystery, worlds etched onto their walls for her to lay on the floor and dream of visiting. After Ven, she’d grown too distracted to meander in her daydreams. 

The masters’ rooms all sat towards the top of the castle. She hadn’t particularly cared which one she picked, only that it faced the dawn and had as many windows as possible. Unsafe, impractical — it’d grow cold in the winter and hot in the summer. There was countless points where invaders could sneak in and incapacitate her in her sleep.

But enclosed rooms suffocated her.

Terra had been less picky. He’d simply chosen the room beside hers. Riku picked the one directly above Sora’s, though she wondered if he realized it. 

Being on a mostly empty floor above a few other entirely empty floors made her feel horribly alone. So, when she walked into the kitchen and always found Sora there, she couldn’t help her relief. All the tension bubbling up inside her like poison fizzled into carbonated air, made her jittery and grin. 

He’d surprised her, being an early waker. Still, his smile was the only thing that made her feel awake, and not lost in an eternal haze of walking.

“Mornin’!” Sora said from his cross legged position on the island, grinning bright, smile slightly crooked but all the more endearing. Surrounding him were the various cookbooks he drew inspiration from, and a notebook messily filled with scribbles made by a black and white checkerboard patterned pen, a red shiny heart on its cap. It moved as Sora made recipes and improvised, recording it all for posterity’s sake, Aqua assumed. All his freckles were out in full force since summer was at its peak and hot. A dry heat, according to Riku with a wry smile, but to her it was still too warm. “I was wondering what to make… anything in mind?”

She hummed, a lyrical up and down that Sora bounced along with as she made her way to the fresh cup of coffee waiting for her. It was some kind of unique blend, or maybe made with some technique she didn’t know. It tasted totally different from the regular cup Aqua made and she had no idea how but she loved it. “Yesterday we had blueberries… maybe today, something with raspberries?”

Sora made a _ pbbbbt _ sound with his lips, crossing his arms to think as Aqua laughed easily. He scooted to the islands end, shoving books aside so he could let his legs dangle. “Crepes? French toast for the kids...” _ The kids, _he said, like he wasn’t one. “Ooooh, I could make an awesome sauce, add some breakfast galettes for Terra—”

And off he was, prattling about cooking and recipes and words Aqua didn’t know but that all sounded delicious. Around him cookery and utensils flew into starting positions, a trick Sora had learned during their brief stay at the tower when he’d managed to befriend _ magic _in Yen Sid’s kitchen. The secret, he’d once told her over his cup of hot chocolate and her cup of coffee, mischievous and bright-eyed, was to compliment the chef.

Aqua couldn’t help melting into the high chair, smiling as she watched him buzz around the kitchen with all the energy of a straight shot of thunder. He ate as he cooked, a piece of brioche to dip into his hot chocolate, even as he chattered about his dream to her. She was only ever allowed to help with baking, but she didn’t actually mind sitting back. It was comforting, to be in a busy kitchen with the sounds of knives chopping, pans sizzling, vegetables gleaming and bread baking, the fire-start spark crackling into the air as Sora laid the egg-covered bread to cook. All the cutlery and noise and Sora’s talking filled the kitchen until it felt five feet wide and cozy, cluttered maybe but _ good. _

“Did you dream this time?” Sora asked, slowly inching a peeled pineapple under the chopping knife waiting. It immediately resumed its slicing, bowls of fruit surrounding it already. The rhythmic sound of the knife hitting wood filled the air, and added to the carafes being filled with fruit juice, the sizzling of french toast, and the popping of the sauce in a pan. The oven was a constant buzz in the background, and despite the question making her tense, the music of cooking washed over her, relaxing her again.

She sipped at her coffee, closing her eyes to relish the instant hit of warmth that coiled in her belly. “No.”

Aqua hadn’t dreamed since she fell.

_ Are you sure you’re even awake, _ her reflection said sweetly. She glared down at the undisturbed coffee in her cup. In its mahogany depths, her reflection sneered, _ or maybe you’re still in the realm of darkness, abandoned and dreaming of a happier life— _

_ That’s not true, Riku and Sora brought me back, I know they did— _

“I don’t know,” Sora said, startling her so badly she hit her cup and only her quick reflexes saved it, making her grateful her reflection was gone to ripples, “if that’s _ normal _or ya know,” he waved vaguely to the sky, “not normal.” He crossed his arms, frowning. “Do you want me to try diving in?”

“Sora,” she said warningly, fingers curling in tight around her cup, eyes still locked on its rippling surface, before finally looking up to pin him with a stern gaze.

“I know, I know,” he said, bright blue eyes dancing away. Traversing hearts was his specialty, but they were all too afraid to risk it again. Everyone, except him. He didn’t seem to care that he was at risk every time he used it, even though just the mention of it made every single guardian tense, frantic at his possible loss.

She felt guilty, sometimes, finding such comfort in Sora. But they all did, and he didn’t begrudge them it.

“Wanna taste?” He asked instead, flashing her his white, charming grin, and she set her cup down to clack her heels over to him. Even though she stopped a proper distance away from him, he sidled up against her side, so like a puppy that it made her laugh. His grin grew even wider, happy to have succeed, and handed her the spoon. 

It was the raspberry sauce, meant to drizzle over the crepes, and it was sweet, the tart flash of it curling deliciously onto her tongue until she closed her eyes. _ “Oh, _ that’s delicious.”

“That’s the look!” Sora said, returning with a bounce to the stove. “Little chef was always the happiest when people made that face. Guess it makes me happy too, thinking about it.” He dipped a finger into the sauce to taste it himself and hummed in delight. “I know I made that but wow it’s _ good.” _

“Was he?” She wondered, ruffling his hair just to make him laugh and scowl and pretend he didn’t like it, ducking out from under her hand. His necklace jangled noisily with his rambunctious movements. “Isn’t little chef a, uh… a rat?”

“Well,” Sora amended, “he _ looked _happiest when people made the right face, so…” Sora trailed off, frowning in thought, until something began to pop ominously. “Shoot!” He dropped the ladle so hastily it splattered sauce across the oven and counters, even landing on Aqua’s arm. Waving away Sora’s hasty apology, she used a finger to wipe the sauce off her arm for another taste, watching as a dutiful rag summoned by Sora cleaned the mess up. In the sink, dishes were already obediently lining up to be washed, the dish rack clacking open for drying.

“Honestly,” Sora said, peering suspiciously at the toast until he deemed it done. “I know I can summon an actual thunderstorm but _ this _is the best spell ever.” He pointed at his own chores being done.

Aqua laughed, and when the food was finally done she helped dish it out, carrying them to the table as she simultaneously juggled her coffee. Really, they needed workers, Aqua thought, surveying the large table needing to be set. The rest of them took turns with chores, but Sora had shooed them all away from breakfast duty. He said he naturally woke up early and he _ liked _being able to do for them, and that besides. Beauty rest was very, very important — in his words, not hers. 

Nine people was a lot to feed, though, especially with picky eaters on board, magic cookware or not. 

Another task for her to see to, Aqua thought, mentally scribbling it on her to-do list in the calligraphy pen she’d guiltily borrowed from Eraqus’ study. The list was always growing, no matter how much she did.

_ They always want you to do everything, _the clear glass of her dish said.

_ That’s not true, _she thought back again, helplessly.

Right on cue, they all started appearing in one’s and two’s and even three’s. Axel tended to round up heavy sleepers Roxas and Xion, corralling them by the scruff of the neck as they yawned and protested. Riku was first, followed by Terra. Ven was always somewhere in the middle unless he’d had a nightmare, and both the trio and Vanitas vied for last, if Sora or Ven didn’t have to run and fetch him in the first place.

They sat noisily, morning people chattering and generally-not-people-until-noon mumbling and grunting, and like always, Aqua stared the head of the table down. 

It was her place now, and the opposite end’s was Terra’s. She took her seat, and looked away when Ven chose to sit by Terra. It hurt her, somewhere deep and rotted, like the incessant scrabbling of nails finally wearing grooves into wood. Their arguments before, ten years ago, felt like an unspoken wedge between them, and every time she gave an order she felt it growing wider. She didn’t have a choice but to step up, now, and sometimes, she resented them for holding it against her.

Besides, it was just a _ seat. _A stupid chair during meals. What did it even matter if they didn’t sit by her? Why was she so pitiful to even be bothered by this?

_ You know they like each other better, _ her reflection said in the curve of her spoon. That Aqua looked tired, and angry. _ Always brothers, always going off after each other. They’re still mad at you, even though you lost ten years trying to save them. _

_ Shut up shut up shut up— _

Someone hit the table and she gasped, glancing up instinctively. Vanitas’ gold eyes bored into hers, and she looked away, feeling horribly seen.

“Today,” Sora announced, always a breath of fresh air. All the tension knotted tight inside her chest unraveled with relief as she looked to him. “Is crepes, french toast, galettes, and like, a _ ton _ of fruit.” He set the main dishes down, and several platters floated magically alongside him to settle in their places, trailing stardust and sparkling. Sora was unexpectedly and obscenely good at ridiculous magic — he struggled with the minutia, but the moment anything caught his attention, he excelled. “Plus this super good raspberry sauce that you have to try _ please _try it, pretty please?”

As he said this, Sora looked Terra dead in the eye, and he snuffled his usual baritone laugh. “Is it sweet?” Terra asked, looking up at Sora as magical plates deposited themselves before him.

“It’s raspberry,” Sora said pointedly.

“Then—”

_ “Try it,” _ Sora insisted, and Riku muffled a laugh. 

“You know Terra doesn’t like sweet foods,” Ven said, already reaching for the syrup. Vanitas snatched it away, and Aqua debated if she _ really _ felt like breaking up the stare down as Vanitas poured an obscene amount of syrup over his french toast. Xion was slumped against Axel’s shoulder, attempting to or succeeding at sleeping more, even as Axel kept moving and dishing out plates for him, her, and Roxas. _ “I _like them,” Ven grit out, glaring at Vanitas.

Vanitas just poured more.

“Pleeeease,” Sora said, digging a spoon into the saucière as it made a circuit by him. He carefully made it to Ven’s side and held the spoon expectantly out. Riku took a long, exaggerated slurp of his coffee, carafe and juice pitchers finally settling down in the middle of the spread in case anyone wanted seconds. 

Terra was making a show of cutting into his food and not meeting Sora’s eyes. Aqua cut into her own crepes and watched, hating the distinct feeling of being left out. 

_ Has anyone even noticed? _The stainless steel of a carafe said.

Aqua squeezed her eyes, and tried harder to avoid her reflection, focusing on the conversation around her again.

“Bet he looks at Sora and caves,” Roxas mumbled, stuffing his mouth with fruit and washing it down with orange juice. 

“Bet he doesn’t even have to look,” Xion said as Axel jabbed a bony finger hard into her arm to get her to sit straight. “Bet he caves in five seconds.”

“Oh, yeah?” Roxas’ eyes gleamed, finally looking awake at the promise of winning a game.

“Guys,” Terra protested, and they dissolved into mutual giggles that even Aqua couldn’t help smiling at.

Sora was undeterred, still holding the spoon out, and finally Riku spoke up, delicately gathering his food together on one fork. “He won’t give up, and his food’s just going to get cold.”

Aqua rested her chin and already knew what was coming. With a groaned, Terra finally pinned Sora with a betrayed look, and Sora plopped the spoon into his mouth hard enough that even from across the table Aqua could hear the metal hit his teeth.

_ “Ow, _ Sora,” Terra managed around the spoon, barely discernible over Sora’s _ oops! _ Still, he diligently tasted the sauce, brows shooting up to his hairline. “Okay, for something sweet it _ is _good.”

“Success!” Sora cheered, throwing his arms into the air as Xion crowed with laughter, dogging Roxas with _ who’s the winner? Who’s the winner now? Me! _

With a spring in his step, Sora bounced into his seat beside Riku, and breakfast finally calmed down into its usual affair, and Aqua realized she hadn’t really said a word the whole time. It reminded her, both bitterly and fondly, of the way Eraqus had been. Always so stoic, so stern. An exemplary master. A dead one. 

Her crepes tasted thin and oily on her tongue, and she blinked hard. They’d been delicious just a second ago. 

“Aqua,” Terra called, and her attention skipped away from the quiet girl sitting beside her. “What’s the plan for today?”

She finished her bite of crepe and leaned over to spear some fruit. Further down the table, Riku had antagonized Sora into some nonsense fight, Riku’s grin too wide as Sora focused wholly on him. Vanitas was glaring at… her? 

“Aqua?”

“Right,” Aqua said, blinking away from her paranoia. A quiet click of a door shutting, another opening, and easily she slid into the mentor’s role as most of the table split their attention between her and whatever Sora was protesting. She’d had the entire week planned out since the beginning of it, and they obediently listened to her as she listed their individual tasks, most of them giving her chirps of _ yep! _ and _ okay! _ and, notably from Sora, _ sir yes sir! _

Breakfast finished, plates wiped clean, Aqua leveled the table with a fond look. “Dismissed. You know where to go.”

Vanitas’ glare could’ve set paper on fire.

* * *

While they all scampered off to gather notes or change out of pajamas — Xion and Roxas were, despite being the sleepiest, always prepared, it was Ven who was the guilty party, a habit he’d never had with _ Eraqus _— Aqua left to the study room.

It was beside the classroom, a generous term for what used to just be Terra, Aqua, and Ven’s schoolroom. There was a green blackboard never entirely clean, random doodles eventually finding their way in the corners, and more chairs and tables hauled from other classrooms. The Land of Departure used to house more apprentices and masters, warranting the multiple rooms, but then it had just been one master and three students, and even now it was just seven students, so only one classroom was still necessary. 

Down the hall from the classrooms was Eraqus’ study. 

The door was heavy and swung open on well-oiled hinges, oak smooth under her hands as she curled them around the frame. It always struck her then, how slender her hands were. She’d never really noticed before, aside from being grateful when she tinkered with her metal. But as she was forced to use a room designed for someone like Terra, it made her realize that she didn’t belong.

Dust had settled. No matter how often she dusted, how she pulled the books from the shelves lining the walls to air them, or how she opened the windows and sat there too long, gazing out at the distance — it still reeked of decay. 

The plush chair had long since adjusted to its previous owner, and so she only ever sat perched on its edge. The behemoth of a desk was stacked with papers and books, some of her own making, most of them Eraqus’.

It had started with paper.

She’d needed it while trying to draft lessons, and there were none in her rooms or in the classroom. The moment she’d opened Eraqus’ study for the first time, something in her shifted like glass cleanly cut, grating along the fine edge, seeking the re-connection.

If she closed her eyes, she could see him still. His kind eyes, crinkled with age. The dark hair she’d once known him with, before the gray had crept along from his temples. She could almost hear his voice, the warm rich baritone, how he said her name. She used to sit on the arm of his chair, small and limbs too long before she’d grown into them, arms wrapped around knobby knees as he sketched the worlds and the lanes in between, promising her that one day she’d have armor forged from the heart of stars so she could traverse the ocean unfolding from their home. 

He’d held her hand to guide her as they traced constellations out on the fields, in case she ever got lost. 

It’d been twelve years, but grief was still no stranger to her. 

Now, it was out of necessity. There were too many things she needed, so many books and guides, looking for all their old lessons for reference. In the end, using the study had been more productive than not, and she dismissed her sentimentality as inefficient. She hadn’t dared move anything from where it had been, and she got used to where he’d left his pens, and the stock of paper in the lower left drawer. On the desk, abandoned mid-sentence, was the bright blue fountain pen. The report he’d been writing was of no real importance. It’d just been detailing their mark of mastery exam, actually, the ink scattered at the end where he’d shoved the pen down too hard. In shock, she wondered, fingers tracing the dried droplets. Or maybe in a hurry, a state she rarely saw him in. She’d picked the pen up and curled her fingers tightly around it, and curled up in his seat to cry, alone close to midnight, her pile of work never ending in its demands. 

She never put it away.

The room was suffocating in a way it hadn’t been before, where it’d just been warm and welcoming, a refuge when she needed advice. He’d always known what to say, and what words would soothe her best. 

She trailed her fingers along the worn-smooth edges of the large desk, and wondered when her throat would stop closing on her when she sat in his chair. The cushion was lumpy, and so she scooted forward, heels forcing her knees to bend at a higher angle exacerbated by how close she sat on the edge, and she pulled out the lessons. In the brassy knob of the armchair, her reflection lingered.

_ Why do you even miss him when he loved you the least? _

_ Because I loved him. _

She scooted further forward, until even her peripheries couldn’t catch a glimpse of it. Biting hard on her lip, she shuffled the lessons in her hands.

They were all different.

Roxas’ and Xion’s were at least similar, both with some vague official training that just needed sprucing up. Axel’s just needed to learn his keyblade forms — he had fighting training and that was good enough.

Ven’s was a gradual continuation from his old one, and _ Sora’s. _

Already she rubbed at her temple and sighed, glaring at his lengthy stack of paperwork. Sora’s was a _ mess. _ For all that he could perform grand magic that rivaled hers and was a formidable foe on the field, he still lacked even the most basic of training. He’d squawked in indignation when she’d promptly told him that the coliseum was _ not _viable training grounds for keyblade masters, merely a means of testing ones strength. At the very least, he’d taken it good naturedly. So, while Sora’s demanded the most care and a critical eye, he was a quick, eager pupil, and seemed to have adjusted to constant demands on his body — he whined but never gave up on his lessons.

For Vanitas, Aqua had simply copied Ven’s and added in some of her old lessons from Master Eraqus. He’d genuinely trained under Master Xehanort, after all. He’d been good enough to scar her, an infuriating, razor-thin pale reminder down her face. It was hardly noticeable, as most cure spells were good enough to hide evidence, but just that line of skin was shinier than the rest. It wasn’t that scars bothered her. She had her fair share like everyone else. But coming from _ him… _

_ Enough, _ she sharply told herself. Eraqus had been impartial in his treatment of them — _ he never called you daughter, _ a furious, taunting voice in her head said, the glass inkwell just before her, _ he didn’t love you as much as he did Terra and Ven and you know it _and she shoved the inkwell into a drawer — she owed it to the rest to follow in his footsteps. They were excellent wielders, and Aqua just knew she could help them grow to their utmost potential. 

Aside from practical, all of them save Ven had not a single clue about the history of their legacy. With a sigh, she flipped through the book on today’s lesson, lectures she knew by heart. She didn’t have a single hope that Sora had read his homework. Once again, Roxas and Xion were by far the most diligent in whatever they considered _ work, _always finishing any assignments before ever having fun. Vanitas, too, she thought with a frown.

_ Can’t believe he listens at all. _

Fast on the heels of her judgement came the residual guilt she always had regarding Vanitas. Shutting the tome, Aqua gathered her materials and, with a sharp, echoing clack of her heels, left the harrowing study.

* * *

"Too _ slow _Lea!” Aqua snapped, tapping her keyblade on the tip of her shoe. “We’ve been over this!”

The training grounds sprawling outside the castle had never seen so much activity. Every single pit was occupied by pairs or individuals, and several new ideas had already been presented to her and Terra. They’d have to enlist Merlin to somehow build them, since Aqua had no idea who Eraqus had turned to for the construction of their current training grounds. She figured, eventually, it’d be wise for her to learn herself.

Still, it was a gorgeous day. The sky was a blueberry blue, unreal, with thick fluffy clouds spotting it playfully. It was so clear that the mountains far in the distance were visible, their snowcaps winking. The wind was just perfect, cool enough to be a gift given their practical work. 

And Lea was _ still _not doing his forms properly.

“Oh, come on!” Lea bemoaned, dismissing his keyblade so he could talk with both hands. Cross-legged on the edge of the training circle was Ven, sitting on the grass but legs in the ring. Around him were mounds of sand, a product of his boredom. “I’m not fourteen anymore! I need a nap before all this.”

“You _ just _had breakfast,” Ven said gleefully.

“Exactly,” Lea nodded seriously, “don’t we all need a nap after eating?”

Aqua sighed aggressively, rubbing at her temple. She didn’t mind corralling the kids, but as an adult, she wished Lea would have more discipline, or any semblance of decorum. He sometimes ate breakfast without _ shoes. _“It’s not about energy, it’s about practice. The more you walk through the steps the faster they’ll come to you. You’re used to the speed of your charkrams — keyblades require more… finesse.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lea said, bringing his hands palm up in a mild shrug before summoning his blade again. This time, he went through the forms correctly _ and _a smidge faster. Satisfied, Aqua instructed him to keep at it and moved to the next circle, relishing the breeze that rifled through her hair.

Roxas similarly was diligent and focused. He clearly practiced outside of class hours and took instruction exceedingly well. When Aqua pointed it out, Roxas shrugged. “You’re a lot better at teaching than _ Larxene,” _ he said, the name dripping with disdain. “Like, yeah you can throw me in the water and say _ swim! _But this is so much better.”

_ Well, _ Aqua thought, _ yikes. _ There wasn’t much she could say to something he considered very normal, when in Aqua’s mind that was kind of really heinous. Still, she couldn’t deny the rush of satisfaction. It was hard, making sure she was doing everything alright. Maybe Roxas just came from something disgustingly subpar to a little bit better, but at the very least it was _ better. _Grinning, she ruffled his hair playfully and complimented his obvious diligence. 

The next ring over had Sora and Vanitas.

“Idiot,” Aqua could overhear as she approached, “I said pivot _ then _move your other foot!”

“But I am!” Sora protested, demonstrating the move again. Aqua immediately saw the problem. Sora was actually simultaneously moving both feet. “See?”

“Do you _ actually _have a brain in there or is it gonna be hollow if I hit it?” Vanitas sneered, hands on his hips and feet shoulder-width apart. His keyblade was lodged into the dirt beside him. “How many times am I gonna have to show you—”

His offensive amber eyes finally tracked up to notice her, and his mouth snapped close. Clicking his tongue, he lifted his keyblade up to rest it on his shoulder. Turning to see what caught Vanitas’ attention, Sora brightened. “Aqua!” 

“I hate to say it,” Aqua began, stepping up to the edge of the ring, “but Vanitas is right. You are moving at the same time.”

Sora groaned, kicking sand up with the tip of his keyblade petulantly. “You _ never _agree with Vanitas, so I guess I am, huh? I just don’t get it!”

Ignoring that spike of guilt and Vanitas’ dismissive _ ha!, _Aqua chuckled. “Here, let’s go through it slowly, maybe that’ll help.”

“Baby Sora needs everything _ easy, _huh?” Vanitas sneered, and Aqua could see the immediate switch in Sora’s eyes as they sparked with something. He turned away from her, simple grin falling into a scowl.

“I don’t need it _ easy,” _Sora snapped, startling Aqua. He normally never lost his temper, no matter how everyone teased him. That Vanitas dragged it out so easily unnerved her. 

“Hey,” Aqua began, crossing into the ring.

“Asking _ mom _over there for help,” Vanitas continued, brandishing his keyblade. Sora instinctively lifted his, then flinched the next moment. He stubbornly lowered it. “No, come on, bring it up. Or what, you think I’m right now? Changed your mind?” He crowed.

“I didn’t,” Sora said, shoulders tense. Behind her, Aqua could sense everyone stopping to watch. “I— I’m not _ stupid.” _

Somehow, those small, petulant words made Aqua hurt.

“Then _ prove _it,” Vanitas hissed, and without even waiting for Sora to ready himself, he swung his keyblade down.

Lightning fast, Sora blocked and parried it away, grunting out a sharp _ “Vanitas!” _

Before Aqua could even think of restraining Vanitas, he did quick footwork, working around Sora and making him twist, turn, step backwards and—

Aqua held her breath.

Sora pivoted, other foot landing second, and Vanitas immediately backed off. Startled, Sora remained wary, chest heaving for breath as the rest of the guardians finally ran up. It had all happened in less than a minute, and Aqua was stunned at what she’d just witnessed.

Vanitas was similarly out of breath, but he was _ grinning. _

It was excited, still a little mean, but not malicious. He dismissed Void Gear, putting a hand on his hip as he tilted his chin up. “There. You proved you’re not stupid — you did it, idiot.” He waved his hand towards Sora’s feet.

For a long moment, Sora stared at him, then he glanced down. Kingdom Key disappeared as he gazed at the disturbed sand, not even noticing when Terra, Roxas, Ven and Xion arrived, Axel just behind them. The sand was evidence enough of their movements, the point of why Eraqus preferred they train there for their forms. Vanitas was not only right, but she’d _ seen _it.

It hit her hard, how clever he was. He had so many gaps of basic knowledge missing that she tended to dismiss that fact, but just now it hit her hard, in a breathtaking, almost horrifying way. Vanitas was too good at manipulating others. She couldn’t believe it’d slipped her mind when that was all he’d done to her, Terra, and Ven. 

“All you needed was a reason to use it,” Vanitas said, but when he saw the others his grin fell. He crossed his arms, subtly moving a foot backwards. “You can all go back now.” He added viciously. “I’m not gonna hurt your shining star here.”

Before anyone else could speak up, Sora did. He huffed and crossed his arms, pinning him with a petulant look. “I knew you wouldn’t, but don’t be so _ mean _Vanitas!” Gone was the genuine scowl, and here was the frown-pout Sora couldn’t seem to ever escape. “That’s why everyone thinks you’re just going to turn your back on us one day.”

“What makes you think I won’t?” Vanitas demanded, though he clearly relaxed a little. 

Terra moved closer to her side, towering over her. Instantly, she felt a better, a reaction she both cherished and loathed. She still didn’t know how to cross the gap widening between them. Before, they could talk with just glances alone. They had an entire language distilled into minute movements and quirks of brows — he could make her laugh just by looking at her. Before, they used to be friends. Before, she might’ve grabbed his hand.

He crossed his arms the moment she instinctively reached for him, his eyes trained on Vanitas, and Aqua let her hand drop.

“Everything okay?” Terra asked her, and she nodded. 

“Yeah, Vanitas was just… teaching Sora.” Of all unbelievable things to occur, Aqua had never considered _ this. _

“You’re too harsh on him,” Terra said lightly, and Aqua stiffened.

_ Look what being too lenient did for you, _ she thought vehemently, _ and you were the _favorite.

Immediately she felt guilty, and she bit her lip harshly, looking up only to find Vanitas glaring at her again. She knew it was impossible, but the seething hatred in his eyes felt too real, too valid. As if he could somehow hear all her thoughts, no matter how well she hid them behind pleasant smiles. 

Everyone thought she couldn’t stand Vanitas because he’d been allied with darkness before. That wasn’t exactly false, but it wasn't the real reason.

It was because he knew she was a terrible person. 

The way he looked at her, it was as if he knew every single terrible, selfish, embittered thought and wish she had, and she hated herself for having them in the first place. Everyone else only saw the good side she showed them, the leader and master and strongest guardian they had. They all looked up to her, and she thought she’d crumble if she lost it. But for some reason, in front of him the person she was striving to be fell apart, and the nasty side of her personality, the _true _side, reared its ugly head.

The truth was, she hid from Vanitas because he _knew_ her.

She looked away from his furious gaze, and hated herself for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a oneshot but... it's pretty long. So, broken up into chapters it is! 
> 
> The journey Aqua and Vanitas take here is near and dear to my heart, and I'd like to thank my writing circle for being both amazing supporters and creative helpers, with suggestions and interested discussions that helped flesh this out. Special shoutout to Pea and Bell for being there when this au was born.


	2. humpty dumpty had a great fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the thoughtful comments! I really appreciate every single one and you all give me the motivation to keep writing. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint! Please stay safe out there ♥
> 
> "I grouped together a collection of old redundant hardware, and placed them in a situation where they're trying their best to do something that they're not exactly designed to do, and not quite getting there. 
> 
> It doesn't sound great, as it's not supposed to."  
— _[Big Ideas: Don't get any.](https://youtu.be/pmfHHLfbjNQ)_

Shortly after, Sora piped up that it was lunch anyways. Sighing, Aqua agreed to cut their lessons short and they left to their rooms to clean up or unwind as Sora headed off to the kitchens. Aqua followed him, chewing on her lip with concern, trying not to make it obvious as she watched Vanitas and Ven head off in two’s, part of the group going back into the castle but obviously exchanging tense whispers, heads bowed together. Ven seemed to be chastising Vanitas.

Still, Sora took her priority at the moment. Ignoring the urge to try and separate Ven from Vanitas, she took to Sora’s heels. He gave her a sunny grin over his shoulder, swinging his arms up to fold behind his head and slowing his pace so they were level. 

Going through the main entrance which was a shorter route to the kitchen than the side entrance closer to the fields and to the wing housing their personal rooms meant the general chatter died down quickly, replaced by the breeze whistling through tall grass and sending Aqua’s skirt up in a flare that tickled Sora’s calves.

“What’s up?” Sora asked casually, not a particularly weighty question. He was giving her the option to be serious or to dismiss whatever concern she had, a tact he’d mastered navigating all their relationships. The breeze shifted up, tugging on their hair before finally moving past them.

Aqua released her lip, the telltale sign that she was concerned. How long would it take before she’d get that under control? Lifting her head to keep her chin level, she let the moment pass in silence, gathering her thoughts.

She didn’t want to step on little toes, she knew Sora was more than capable of taking care of himself, but she couldn’t help her concern, and Sora was just too… trusting. Forgiving. 

Sometimes, she remembered the first time she’d taught him, and it made bile rise in her throat in self-disgust. The coiling welts of her whip had disappeared with magic, but Riku’s glare had followed her. Even now, it was a wonder he trusted her, as fiercely protective as he was.

Sora didn’t comment on her silence. He just walked confidently forwards, and Aqua envied him that. Everything she did now was plagued by self-doubt.

“Sora,” she began hesitantly as they climbed the white stone steps. Her heels clacked on them authoritatively as his sneakers made simple thuds. The wind picked up again, swirling around them quietly before snaking off elsewhere, and surely the others had filed inside already, even the distant sound of their voices gone. Feeling more confident, she started again. “About Vanitas…”

Surprisingly, he didn’t interrupt her. Instead he opened the front door and swept into a ridiculously low bow, complete with an exaggerated flourish of his arm. She couldn’t help a giggle, ruffling his hair as she stepped in first. That he didn’t snap at her or immediately groan like Ven did when the topic of Vanitas came up simultaneously comforted her to continue going and made her realize that Ven was more exasperated than she’d initially realized.

Another thing to investigate, another task for another day, penned in on her list and filed away.

“He didn’t hurt you, right?” She asked, warily eyeing him. He hid his wounds like the rest.

“Nope,” Sora said, arms swinging. “Didn’t even really touch me. He kinda avoids that, ya know?”

She didn’t. Frowning, Aqua stored that tidbit away for later analysis. “No secret cuts? Not using your jacket to hide it _ again?” _

_ “Aquaaaa,” _ Sora groaned, coloring. “That was _ one _time!”

“You were bleeding.”

“It’d clotted!”

“It was a foot long.”

“It would’ve healed,” Sora grumbled under his breath, and she couldn’t help a fond rolling of her eyes and a laugh. She was more than used to all their bravado, herself included. In fact, despite her and Riku having the most efficient healing ability, they were the ones most guilty of hiding their wounds.

She held her hand out, palm up, and he cocked his head curiously before taking it regardless. It made her smile, his guileless nature of acting first and thinking second being endearing. Of course, when the honeysuckle and ringing bells bloomed above him, the realization caught up quickly.

“Aqua!” He said, dismayed and put out she’d tricked him.

Laughing with a hand hiding her smile, she held the swinging door into the kitchen for him instead, and he walked in with his signature pout written plain across his face.

“That was dirty,” Sora grumbled, wasting no time in climbing on top of his counter, books eagerly awaiting him. He picked up one from a stack he’d once told her was called ‘I _ earned _it fair and square.’ It was where the desserts and particularly indulgent cookbooks were.

“Clever,” Aqua corrected. “It’s exactly what Vanitas did.”

He stopped, eyes seeing beyond the text before looking at her. “He was helping me,” he said, face neutral but eyes intense, older than they should be but still the same shade of blue as Ven’s. Sora thumbed the page he’d been reading, closing the book and regarding her with a small smile, a helpless cadence to his voice and the slope of his shoulders as he sat surrounded by a hobby gone out of control. “He’s trying… I just can’t doubt him.”

_ You should, _ Aqua thought, wrapping her hands around the edge of the counter, knuckles white, _ you should’ve doubted me. _

“Your faith won’t always be rewarded,” she choked out around the vice grip on her throat. All she could see when she closed her eyes were ten long, long years spent abandoned. How her friends never came, an unwavering faith she clung to so strongly that when it broke it was like the spine of a marionette snapping, all of the rest crumbling to the ground with it. “Some people don’t deserve it.”

“It will be,” Sora said defiantly, and for all the years in his eyes his voice still sounded so young. “It hasn’t failed me before!”

“But it’s hurt you,” Aqua countered, a hard edge in her voice, and Sora flinched. He looked away, and the once lively kitchen felt suffocated with silence.

“It’s okay,” Sora whispered, closing the book in his hands and setting it aside. He reached for a green-bound one, running his fingers over its embossed cover. “I can take it.”

“Sora,” Aqua said, before gritting her teeth and rounding the table to force Sora to face her again. “You can’t trust so easily! Especially _ him. _I know you want to believe in the best of people, but there’s just nothing good in him.”

Sora stared at her, mouth falling open softly. He seemed shocked, appalled even. Then, his brow furrowed, and there was no sweet pout or indignant frown. It was a scowl, darkening his eyes and changing him. “I can’t believe you can say that. Everyone’s capable of good and of changing!”

“You don’t know that!”

“I _ do!” _ Sora snapped, petulant, stubborn, like a _ child. _

_ “How,” _ Aqua demanded, infuriated that she was tearing up. She dashed the tears away and glared, “How can you be so confident? _ I _ hurt you, _ Riku’s _ hurt you, what makes you so sure we won’t again?”

“What, does that mean you think Terra will?”

His sharp words cut her to the quick, made her jerk back and, when her immediate answer was not the one he wanted, she looked down the floor, furious and ashamed and most of all, hating herself for not having his same wide-eyed wonder and belief.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to see the disenchanted look in his eyes, the disgust that she was so small and narrow minded. 

Instead, the gentlest touch on her hands startled her, and she sucked in a breath, blinking to find Sora carefully unraveling her fisted hands. He encouraged her fingers straight, revealing the bright red crescents in her palms. Despite being two years older than him, his hands were bigger, a mix between Terra’s and Ven’s with the blunt nails and knobby knuckles. Hers ended in a taper, nails carefully rounded. It reminded her of Eraqus’ study.

Sora cradled her hands in his, and for a while they remained quiet as Aqua calmed down. 

When he spoke, it was in a low, muted voice. Distantly, Aqua felt painfully aware their time was running out. Soon enough, someone would come asking where lunch was. This little bubble would be broken. “You know,” Sora said, one thumb rubbing into a particularly deep crescent to try and ease the broken blood vessels into healing. “I didn’t always believe in Riku.”

Aqua couldn’t help balking. “What?”

“Yeah,” Sora laughed, as if it was ridiculous looking back. “Or, I don’t know. I think deep down I never really doubted him, but he was so full of darkness. Nothing was too much, for him, and I think that scared me. Not knowing who my best friend was anymore.” He squeezed her hands. “But if I could help him by believing in him… then I’d do it again. I’d do it a hundred times over, even if ninety-nine of those times he betrays me, it’ll always be worth it for that one time.”

Sora grinned, and Aqua thought she understood why the gods had traced this smile into constellations. “And we’re here now, stronger than ever before, and he’s saved me just like I saved him — not that I’m keeping count.”

“Sure you aren’t,” Aqua managed, unable to help her own tiny grin. 

“Just don’t tell Riku,” Sora winked, and Aqua twisted her lips to try and keep from growing an even bigger grin. “It’s not easy,” Sora admitted, “but it’s worth it. Vanitas deserves that chance, just like Riku did, and Terra, and you.”

“But what if you’re let down?” Aqua persisted, unable to help that cold voice haunting her from speaking.

“Then I’ll try again,” Sora shrugged. “As long as I have friends to be my strength, then I’ll keep trying. It doesn’t matter who tries to stop me, I won’t let them.”

And even though Aqua had walked into this conversation to discuss Vanitas, somehow it had come to be about her. Her own self-doubts and fears and terror that she might fall again, filled with shame and hate and bitter thoughts. They both knew Sora meant, _ I’ll still believe in you, _and something heavy and cold weighing her down was so easily blown away by his words.

His eyes were still the same shade of blue as Ven’s, but all she saw in her reflection in them was something worth trying for.

Aqua finally pulled away and Sora didn’t stop her, but she only rubbed at her eyes, embarrassed to be so low in front of him, even though Sora wouldn’t judge her. “Have you told Riku that?” She said instead, trying to distract him.

Sora let her, groaning. “No way! He’d just call me a sap again.”

“I bet he’d really like to hear it,” Aqua said, teasing.

_ Everyone _had seen the way Riku watched Sora. It was hard not to.

“I don’t know,” Sora grabbed another book, back to pouting. “Come on, just pick a theme already before Ven comes in here trying to steal bites again!”

Aqua giggled, grabbing a cookbook at random to idly flip through it. After all that emotional upheaval, she wanted comfort food, and even though a heavy meal in the middle of the day wasn’t the best idea, she found herself wanting to shirk responsibility, just a bit.

She pointed at something with cheese, and Sora positively lit up. “Oh, Riku’s going to _ hate _this! Definitely gotta make it.”

Aqua frowned, confused. “Why would he hate it?”

“He doesn’t like messy foods,” Sora said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I can’t wait to see his face!” He snickered. He hopped off the counter, and all around him the cutlery and pots and pans flung into action, beginning the cacophony that was the start of the symphony, and even though Aqua had a long, pressing list of things to do, she sat in her chair to do nothing but watch and talk, delighted when Sora made her some kind of milk tea drink poured over ice.

At lunch, Riku _ did _make a face, and for once Aqua laughed and felt like she was a part of them, and not set apart.

* * *

After lunch, it was back to lessons. Normally they were split between her and Terra. Riku, for all his status as a master, still had to self-study to catch up on the dense history stretching far behind their titles. It was no easy task and Aqua didn’t envy him. Sure, she was _ good _at studying, but diligence didn’t mean she liked it. Poor Riku didn’t even sigh when he saw the stack of texts she’d given him, just bit the inside of his lip in an expression she might’ve missed before. 

Aqua had Ven, Vanitas, and Xion, while Terra taught Roxas, Sora, Kairi, and Axel, if the redhead deigned to pay attention or even show up. Aqua always had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from cracking a smile when she saw him miserably sitting at the same desk as Roxas, dead-eyed and clearly mentally checked out. 

It split fairly well, since Terra was more or less new to teaching as a whole and was used to Ven’s antics, and Sora was the only one to give him trouble, if Terra elected to ignore Axel’s feigned diligence. Once again, Roxas was as hard a worker as ever, and Kairi was sweet. 

Aqua, who was more strict, got _ Ven, _who needed no explanation, and Vanitas, who needed even less of one. Xion was her only joy in class, even if she tended to drift off in the occasional daydream. 

Before walking into the classroom, Aqua rolled her neck and shoulders, easing out the stress that had immediately crept up as she approached the door. It felt like she was an entirely different person from the girl in the kitchen, who drank tea and smirked as she teased Sora. She stood straight, threw her shoulders back, and strode into the room.

Her heels commanded as much attention as if she’d summoned her keyblade, Vanitas’ wary gold eyes flickering to her instantly as he sat by the window, far from the other two closer to the door. Ven was cross-legged in his chair, drawing something on Xion’s paper with glee as she frowned down at whatever he was doing.

“Alright,” Aqua said, and when Ven didn’t turn around, she rolled her eyes and flicked her fingers at him. A gust of tightly coiled wind shot from her gesture to smack Ven upside the head, sending his hair into even _ more _of a disarray, rocking his chair forwards.

“Hey!” Ven said, whirling around and cradling the back of his head as if she’d actually done harm. By the window, Vanitas snickered, and Ven shot him a glare.

“Class,” Aqua said pointedly, and Ven grumbled before hunkering down in his seat. Waiting a beat to see if he’d start anything else, Aqua opened the heavy tome and began breaking down a lesson on crafting intricate spells. 

She was halfway through the lesson, board covered in chalk when she looked across the room and realized Vanitas wasn’t paying attention. She’d noticed earlier already that he’d been looking at the window but she’d dismissed it as a coincidental timing. But, he was _ still _staring out that window.

What, did he think she wasn’t worth listening to?

That these weren’t valuable lessons?

That they weren’t the reason he still lost, no matter how much brute strength he had?

Sitting like that, chin cupped in his hand and legs in the seat of his chair, he looked so much like Sora. A shame it was only skin deep.

Aqua gripped the edge of the podium, heart thrumming like a rabbit's in her chest as she tempered her glare into something approaching neutrality. She didn't know if she succeeded or not, another black mark staining his name. 

She hated the loss of composure, of her iron-clad control. He only had to breathe near her and her temper began to fray like rope held too taut, snapping and unraveling and clinging by the grace of the stars alone.

"Are you listening, or should I just send you out?" Aqua demanded. Ven and Xion grew still, eyes darting to each other than to the only one who hadn't acknowledged her statement.

It was only when the silence prevailed for a few beats more did Vanitas' gold gaze track towards the room, regarding everyone in turn and landing solidly on Aqua's furious stare. An electric spark of understanding made the hair on the back of Aqua's neck rise. She felt flush with her anger. 

She doubted herself enough without Vanitas undermining her attempts at establishing routine and normalcy and something approaching what it once had been. 

"Well?" The world left her lips like the crack of a whip, sharp and unrelenting. Xion didn't flinch, but her face clouded over, and Ven was beginning to dip into a scowl. judging her. Always, always judging her and how she tried her best with the hands she was dealt. 

She closed them from her mind's eye, blocking out their reactions and her sensitivity to them, focusing just on Vanitas.

"I _am_ listening," Vanitas drawled, golden eyes flickering with dark amusement. Even if he had been, the purposeful slow drip tracking between his words, how his lips curled into a smirk, how he dipped his head in a mocking show of obeisance — all of it with the intention to rile her, to make her doubt his words, to throw her back into their chess game of constantly watching each other take measured steps for the sake of false peace.

"Oh?" Aqua crossed her arms, settling her weight on one leg as she cocked her hip and stared down her nose at him. It got the effect she wanted. His shoulders stiffened, smirk dropping into his own scowl. He hated when she looked down at him. Maybe he hated when anyone did, but Aqua had yet to see anyone else guilty of it. "And I'm supposed to trust the words of a liar who's spent the last twenty minutes just staring out that window?"

She saw Ven move in the corner of her eye, hand raising as if he could just grab her even from across the room. "Aqua—"

Vanitas crowed with sudden laughter, cutting Ven off as he twisted his expression while wearing the face of their universal favorite. He didn't laugh sweetly, or kindly, or even with genuine amusement. It was a barking sort of laugh, as if he wanted to wound her with the sound of it alone. 

"You're really just drowning in that paranoia, huh?" He asked, drawing the side of his finger across his lip, as if he was remembering the arc of blood that had split from her face when he'd first sliced his keyblade down it. She knew it was just her own imagination, but the scar grew hot. "Got everyone fooled with that goody-two-shoes routine."

The heat from the scar flashed across her face, and she willed herself not to blush even though it was a moot effort. He seemed to practically glow at her cornering her. "It's not paranoia when you have a track record a mile long," Aqua hissed, and then, because she knew it'd hurt, because she'd seen the way he trailed around him like a lost puppy, added, "one day you're going to prove Sora wrong, and it'll be us who pick up the pieces."

Vanitas was always so careful about what he showed, as if he carefully picked and plucked every expression, the way his brows arched or his lips curled or the slope of his shoulders and back, where his hands were and how he wore his confidence — always treating his body like it was disconnected from him, a puppet for him to control with surgical precision.

So when he looked briefly stricken, hurt flashing across his features and lips falling softly open, when he looked just like Sora, Aqua didn't let it sway her heart.

He could fool them all, but her. She trampled the rising guilt deep inside her, strangled the life from it with cold certainty and experience spanning years. 

If she couldn't shake her own darkness, then it was impossible for Vanitas to.

As quickly as the wounded expression had come, it went, gone to his cache of manipulative tactics.

Uneasy silence descended, and Aqua was, for some reason, too scared to look at Xion and Ven. They wouldn't understand, not until the truth finally came to light. She had to protect them, all of them, from the horrors of their reality, from the burden of fear. She would shoulder it and their futures and she would do her best to be their guiding light until they found their footing, and would leave her.

She glared at Vanitas, and ordered him gone from the room. He complied without meeting her gaze, no books or pencils or notes to gather as he left with a stiff back.

It was impossible to follow him out without meeting Ven's eyes, and the anger there crippled her soft heart. But she was used to his resentment, and so she closed herself from it and returned to the lesson as if nothing had happened.

It was up to her to shelter them. She wouldn't fail them again.

* * *

Aqua dismissed class when she finished the lesson, refusing to cower beneath Ven's glower. Ven left without a backwards glance at her, a subtle punishment to ignore her, and Xion was quiet, keeping her opinion to herself both in words and expression. Aqua allowed them their mute judgement, trailing to the window Vanitas had been glaring out of.

The view was of the rest of the land. Waterfalls still cascaded in great tumbling white falls of water that collected into a lake, feeding into a river. The valley was still beautiful. Could he appreciate beauty?

Already, her mind was racing, looking over the interaction and wondering... could she have been wrong?

Was he really misunderstood? Was there value in what Sora saw and believed? If it had been Terra, wouldn't she have stood up for him?

_But you were so quick to believe Eraqus,_ and there was her glossy reflection, flimsy and thin and hidden by glares, but she knew they way her lips curled, chapped and dry, how her eyes leered, like Aqua was a tempting morsel that could be snatched up by nimble red-stained fingers. _You betrayed him before you even knew he was guilty._

Outside, a few of them were gathering to horse around in their free time before dinner. Sora, Roxas, and Xion were trailblazing, while Riku a short distance away with his hands in his pockets, was content to watch Sora where none of them could see, following at a sedate pace. It wasn't really that he was so obvious, lovesick or dazed. It was more the way he relaxed, unlike with anyone else. 

She wondered where Terra was, if Sora and Roxas were out already then he was probably done with his classes. Maybe he was coming to find her. Maybe he'd checked Eraqus' study first. Maybe the kitchens, where before she'd been frequently caught redhanded sneaking sweets. Maybe looking for her wasn't the first thought on his mind, like it was for Riku and Sora. Like it wasn't for her, she thought with some guilt.

Turning away from the windows, Aqua decided maybe she'd go find him first, instead of always waiting.

He wasn't in his class, across and down the hall from hers, or in their master's study. He wasn't in his rooms either, and though she doubted it, she checked the library and found it empty too. 

Then she hesitated. Before — always always always _before_ — she would've known without a shadow of a doubt where he'd be. But ten years was so long... memories were fuzzy and muddled, habits dismantled without her knowing it. Maybe he didn't know how to find her either, if he was looking for her. 

Sighing, she decided to trudge outside for fresh air too. There were a multitude of exits from the castle to the grounds, but she chose the main hall. It was closest to her, coming from the library, and she just wanted to sit on the steps and maybe sunbathe.

Her heels normally echoed back to her, but the great doors were cracked open, allowing the spring breeze inside and making her falter. They were never open like this. 

Creeping closer, Aqua heard them before she saw them.

"And what's it to _you?" _

Vanitas, Aqua realized, holding her breath. He sounded defensive, caustic.

"Isn't 'concern' enough?" Terra replied wryly, and Aqua grew very, very still. She thought even her heart had frozen. Like a statue, she couldn't move, rooted to the spot. "Not everyone has ulterior motives."

"That's a lie and even you know it," Vanitas sneered. "I'm not a charity case for all of you to save. At least she doesn't hide it."

Who? Her? No one else was as open as Aqua was, admittedly. 

"She's too harsh," Terra replied, and maybe she was made of stone, but stone could break, too. "Sometimes, she just... she just wants to keep everyone safe, and maybe she takes it too far."

"Yeah," Vanitas barked a laugh, but there was no usual instantaneous anger, no reaction from her. She was still repeating Terra's words over in her head. His dismissive, plain tone. "And what makes you think she's wrong? I could kill any of you if I wanted. None of you lock your doors except her and Axel," —he'd checked?— "all of you give me knives and forks, let me use my keyblade. Trusting, stupid naive wielders of light. She's the only one who's got her head on right."

"Sora always says you do this," Terra replied easily, without skipping a beat. Terra wasn't phased at all with Vanitas like Aqua would have been. She closed her eyes with a tremulous breath. Terra was so calm, so composed. He really didn't think Vanitas was guilty or capable of everything he'd just tossed around. He really believed in him, like Sora. He didn't even give her the benefit of the doubt. "Never being straightforward."

"Sora should keep his fucking mouth shut," Vanitas grumbled, and Terra laughed.

"He worries about you."

"He shouldn't."

"And I bet you've tried to make him stop," Terra added wryly. What was this? Were they really this close, to have such a calm, friendly conversation? When had this happened? Vanitas' silence was telling, and Terra continued. "He's not the worst friend you could make, you know."

"I don't _want_ friends," Vanitas said, and Aqua turned away. She'd heard enough.

Of course Terra hadn't come looking for her. Vanitas wouldn't have been anywhere near her classroom, or Eraqus' study, or the kitchens if Sora wasn't. Terra wouldn't have bumped into Vanitas while looking for her. 

The halls felt too big now, even without her echo. As she walked blindly away, Aqua realized no one was really looking for her at all. She felt stupid then, and lonely, and then she started to laugh, soft quiet laughter as if she'd recalled an old joke.

Crossing her arms to grab her elbows, Aqua hugged herself. Her mind was blissfully blank, and without realizing it she found she was in the kitchens. Whose turn was it to cook today? The list by the door said Axel, but there was still time until dinner. 

She claimed her usual stool at the island and sat, staring at the far wall and welcoming the silence she normally loathed. Nothing in her vision was reflective, and so even her shadow wasn't there to taunt her. 

Well, Aqua thought, still feeling unmoored and distant and as far away as the stars, she had doubted him first.

* * *

Aqua was so lost in thought, she didn't hear him enter until the lights flickered on and he spoke.

_ "Shit!" _ Axel cursed and Aqua jumped nearly a foot in the air. "Scare a guy half to death, why don't you!" His hair was half pulled back into a ponytail, probably to keep it back while cooking, and he was dressed down, more casual than she'd ever seen him before.

"Oh," Aqua murmured, blinking rapidly as she adjusted to the change in lighting. With mild dismay, she realized she'd been tearing up, and she chased them away hoping Axel wouldn't notice and would dismiss it as sudden light blindness. "Sorry, I was thinking and..."

Her words died as she looked at Axel's face and realized she hadn't fooled him. He was staring at her, brows knit together and green eyes intense, studying her. Aqua dropped her hand to her lap, and she was suddenly reminded of another time, when he'd found her hiding from the world at the top of a tower.

"Again, huh?" Axel asked, and like a switch his burning gaze flipped into casual nonchalance. He peered at the checklist and clicked his tongue as he saw his name plain as day, then moved to the refrigerator to peer into it. "Well, since you're here already, mind giving me a hand?"

No one would willingly come into the kitchen knowing they'd be conscripted into helping, so no one would think to come find her here. She leapt up. "Uh, sure! I mean, I don't mind." She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, but when Axel looked at her again she flushed at the needless preening. What was the point in looking respectable when he'd already caught her again?

Sighing, she gave up stretching the wrinkles in her skirt out where she'd been mindlessly gripping it. 

With a roll of one lazy shoulder, Axel stuck his head back in the fridge, pulling this and that out contemplatively, then adding some of it to the growing stack on the counters. 

"We need a chef," Axel grumbled, pulling out more food to make sure there was enough for nine. "Sora can enchant the cookware, sure, but not all of us are so lucky. Cooking for nine people," he continued to grumble beneath his breath.

Aqua wasn't sure what he thought he was going to make with what he'd pulled out, but it was still a while yet until dinner so she figured it was going to take some time.

She stood uselessly to the side until he took notice of her again. "Here, peel potatoes. And don't leave any of the skin on — I hate the texture."

"Right," Aqua set to work, and for a while Axel let her be in peace. She got lost in the easy routine, and slowly the usual music of cooking filled the air, and Aqua relaxed even more. 

It wasn't until they were halfway through prep that Axel spoke, stirring a tall pot of soup. "Not that I'm saying you have to, but, well, you kind of really look like you need it. So what happened?"

"Is it that obvious?" Aqua muttered, giving up on pretense. She was chopping carrots and viciously sliced one in half, knife embedding itself in the wooden board. She yanked it out. "Can everyone tell?"

The words came out more bitter than she'd intended. Axel eyed her warily as if she might turn that knife on him. "No, lucky you. You still look like you've got it all under control."

Aqua giggled, a little hysterical. Axel had probably sounded sour on purpose, because it still tickled her that he envied her composure. "I don't, I really don't. I wish I did."

"From where I'm standing, you're doing a pretty good job. But, I don't really know what you're trying to do, so who knows."

It was just like him to be so brutally honest. "I always thought Master had—" she stumbled, reminding herself only after she said it that there was more than one now, "that Master Eraqus had the right idea. How the lessons were structured, the mealtimes... me and Terra did well with them."

"Not saying he's wrong, but I meant more for... you know. Your age." Axel deemed the pot satisfying and moved it to another burner to simmer, pulling a pan over. He still wasn't looking at her, like Terra would have, so straightforward, but she relished in the brief privacy. "I've got my share of problems already just trying to help Roxas and Xion and well, myself. Can't imagine taking care of everyone else and the actual universe." Even while cooking he still talked to his hands, dangerously waving around hot ladles and spatulas.

"Someone has to," Aqua replied instantly.

"Does it have to be you?" Axel said, equally rapid-fast, and Aqua stilled. She'd never entertained the idea before, that anyone could take her place.

Slowly, she resumed chopping. The carrot pieces were a little uneven. "Yes... yes, I think it does." Finished, she handed the board to Axel, who slid them into the pot. "Can you think of anyone else?"

"No," Axel confessed after a moment. "But I'm a strong believer in doing what you want. You don't really have to be their teacher."

"Then what's the point of being a master?" Aqua demanded, frustrated, and Axel grinned at her, feline as always.

"Now we're talking philosophy! Or hypotheticals, I guess." He clapped his hands free of clinging carrots. "If you were to just, oh, say give it all up, hop on your little flying keyblade and go far, far away where no one knows you and no one needs you and you can start all over, it would all fall apart here," Axel said amiably. Aqua was dismayed to realize that, for a single moment, it sounded beyond tempting. The guilt was fast on its heels though. "Sora would just go wherever in the universe he wants, and let's face it, Riku would be right behind him. Roxas would never become a master, or Xion, or me for that matter, and we'd go back to Twilight Town to pick up our old lives, though they don't even have an education anyways, and believe me that stresses me out daily, and then who knows what Terra and Ven would do. Probably go off somewhere together."

_But not follow me,_ Aqua thought. Everyone else would stick together, but them.

Ah, but Axel was too clever. He saw it on her face and his cleared. "So that's the problem."

_"Don't,"_ Aqua said, small and defeated and quiet. She turned away and marched to the cupboards she'd seen Sora dig through when he'd made her milk tea. What had he used? Tea itself, sure, but which one? And milk, right? She kept digging, looking. "It's fine. I was just tired and you're thinking too much about it. I'm fine."

Axel's hands over hers startled her, and she yanked them back. But he didn't move from her side, and she realized the backs of her hands burned where he'd touched her. She fisted them and looked down at her shoes, away from him. 

"Now, I don't know about you, but I don't think anyone else would be convinced by that little show."

Squeezing her eyes, Aqua pulled away entirely. "Whether you believe it or not, it's none of your business. Now, I have something to do that I forgot, and you look like you're almost done, so..." she trailed off, and because she couldn't help herself, she looked back up.

Axel was just watching her. They both knew she was lying, that she was faking. There wasn't any point in pretending, really. He was wearing Sora's apron, Aqua saw, and if she didn't feel so terrible, she might've laughed at how short and cartoonish it looked on him. 

Instead, she turned on her heel and left, and at dinner she studiously avoided Axel, Terra, Ven, and even Vanitas. No one seemed to notice her silence as she nibbled on an oddly shaped carrot.

* * *

No one had stopped Aqua as she left the dining room, even though they'd all fell into groups of chatter and laughter. She left, and didn't even feel eyes watching her.

The moment she was a hall away she took off in a run. Up the several stairs, down the stately hall, into her room and slam the doors behind her — she sank against them, gasping.

It took a long moment before she calmed down, but the sickening tight feeling of suffocation wouldn't leave her. Locking the door, she shucked her shoes with vicious kicks and sank into her carpet. Her vanity was missing its mirror, but she walked towards her closet. In the very back, covered in a sheet and hidden behind a stack of books, was her missing mirror.

She kneeled before it and pulled the sheet down listlessly, resigned. Her initial reflection was just herself, cheeks flushed and pink, hair clinging to her brow with sweat. She looked like a mess. Like a child playing at grownup. She touched the glass, laying her palm flat against it, but it didn't sink in no matter how long she waited.

She didn't need the taunting voice to tell her anything. She already knew. She'd pushed them away, she'd doubted them, she'd let it get to her head. She deserved their cold shoulder, she... 

"That's alright," Aqua said aloud. "It'll... it'll pass. It's just too soon. They just need time. They need things to be normal again."

She could shed the darkness one day. She could control her reflection. Riku had done it. It was possible. 

For hours, she stared and stared, waiting for it to appear, but it didn't. No one came knocking at her door either, and she didn't realize she'd been waiting until she'd showered and tucked herself into bed, requisite window open and blowing lacy curtains gently in.

That was fine, too. She wouldn't have known what to say to anyone at her door anyways. She curled in, and listened for the light but heavy booted steps that were Riku's finally turning in. She waited even longer for Terra's heavy tread. 

He paused outside her door, and she held her breath, but he turned away to his own room instead. She strained her hearing, but she couldn't hear anything else. 

What would Eraqus say? What would his advice be? She tried to remember what he'd told her before, when they'd gotten into petty fights, but nothing came up from the hazy depths of her lost memories. 

She fell asleep like that, and that was, as far as it went, as normal and routine as every other day since she'd brought them all here.

* * *

And another day.

And another day.

And another day, and another day. 

They blurred together, to her.

* * *

Aqua had gotten so used to her fragile routine that when it finally broke, she didn't know what to do.

She'd woken up in the middle of the night, and like usual she immediately did a search of the castle. A quick walk helped her fall back asleep, and she felt better knowing everyone was safe and there wasn't anything amiss.

She hadn't expected to bump into anyone, so when she passed one of the indoor training rooms and heard something, she paused. Quietly, she summoned her keyblade and shucked her house slippers. They would only hamper her if she needed to move quickly, and even though she felt woefully under-dressed in her nightgown and robe, she didn't bother to tie it either, ready to drop it, too, if it got in her way.

On bare feet she padded silently over to the cracked doorway. There was an alcove on the other side, maybe three feet long, before the large room that stretched two floors high and several feet wide. Windows high and near the ceiling let in moonlight on the training mats, and Aqua held her breath as she crept into the alcove, thankful the door was set close to a corner where the walls met so that whoever was in the middle of the room wouldn't see her immediately.

She barely peeked around the bend when she spotted Vanitas.

They hadn't spoken much since their argument in the classroom. He'd avoided her and had even dutifully returned to his lessons the next day, staring blankly forward this time. She didn't comment or call on him, and he never had a question. He still didn't take notes, but Terra's rebuke echoed in her mind.

They hadn't talked much either. He seemed busy or was always with the others, where a private conversation could be prevented. Axel, too, hadn't taken her aside, respecting her wishes, she guessed.

But despite all this, she'd never noticed Vanitas training on his own before.

He was running through his drills, Aqua realized. The ones they'd started today. They were defensive maneuvers, but he didn't finish there. He was combining them with all the others until it was one long sequence, as Eraqus had meant them to be. The first few he did beautifully, as if he were made of water, dancing through the steps.

There was a rhythmic quality to his movement, and it wasn't until he got to the later ones that he slowed. Carefully, step by step, mastering the movements before he ran through it again, twice, thrice, speeding up until it matched the flawlessness of the others. When he messed up, he didn't curse or scowl or stomp his feet like Sora or Roxas might have, or throw himself flat on the ground to claim a five minute break like Ven. He just started over.

Aqua lost track of time watching him, confused and mystified. He didn't seem to notice her, and eventually the light began to catch on his skin. He was sweating, hair clinging to his nape and temples and his grip constantly adjusting on his keyblade. His breathing became labored, and Aqua knew from experience that just because they looked easily didn't mean they were.

She knew the way his thighs would begin to burn first, then his back kept so straight. Then his shoulders and upper arms from keeping his keyblade aloft for so long. Then his shins, and they would start furious and fast, not gradual like the others. His abdomen would creep along, because keeping your core tensed while still breathing evenly and moving through several forms endlessly hurt something awful after a while.

It wasn't until he started to pant that she became concerned. He breathed raggedly, as if he'd been holding it back for too long, but every time he messed up, he'd start over, like some kind of sick punishment. Even Eraqus would've stopped and tried an alternative method of learning at that point.

Aqua almost gave in to impulse and spoke up, but she didn't want to shatter whatever illusion of privacy and safety he had here. She knew he'd clam up instantly and glare at her. He'd start a fight or she would, and after so many days of Terra's thoughtless words circulating in her mind, she just didn't have the energy to.

So she stood there and watched, wondering when he'd give in.

With no watch or her gummiphone, and the clock too far to read in the dark room, Aqua had no idea how much time passed before he staggered. He dug his keyblade into the ground, leaning on it and gasping for breath in a painful manner that made her cringe. There was something wrong, she realized.

He couldn't catch his breath, clawing at his throat and heaving and that seemed to make it worse as he dropped his blade to clamp a hand over his mouth, the other digging into the flesh of his stomach as if he could physically keep it in place if he choked it there.

"Vanitas!" Aqua gasped, darting from her hiding place, dismissing her keyblade. Hers vanished like his, but he could barely look up at her with watery gold eyes before they rolled into the back of his head and he pitched forward.

She skidded towards him on her knees, grasping his shoulders to roll him around and check his face. Merciless, Aqua dug her fingers into his mouth to part it, checking for something he could be choking on, but there was nothing. His head was in her lap, and she soothed his hair back from his sweaty forehead, alarmed at how hot his skin was. He was practically radiating heat, but as her hands darted around him to check his pulse, she finally noticed his breaths.

Still a bit weak, still shallow, but there.

Aqua nearly collapsed with relief. His head lolled towards her on her lap, and she froze.

Reality checked in a good deal faster than she was ready for, and she suddenly had a lapful of Vanitas that she'd never expected to.

Asleep like this, unconscious like this, he really did look like Sora. Their brows, his lips when he wasn't scowling. They weren't chapped, funnily enough, and Aqua dropped her hands from where they still held him in place.

Sleep deprived, unnerved, and frankly a little scared from the episode she'd just witnessed, Aqua stared down at Vanitas and heard Sora.

_'But it’s worth it. Vanitas deserves that chance, just like Riku did, and Terra, and you.'_

_But what if you're let down?_

She closed her eyes for a long, long moment. When she opened them, she tried looking at Vanitas like she had Ven, when he'd first arrived. She had never doubted her protective instincts then. Biting her lip, she figured she shouldn't now. 

Tucking her arms under him, Aqua lifted Vanitas as she stood, cradling him. For now, she needed to see what was wrong with him. Then, they could move forward. To be honest, it frightened her to think of him waking up, but Aqua had made up her mind. She wouldn't have Terra's words taunting her anymore. 

She'd give him a single chance. 


	3. all the king's horses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this a shorter update time... I'm not sure. I fell just a little short of my wordcount goal, but it was either that or make this chapter 10k and I don't have that kind of willpower. As it is, keep on trucking! 2020 has to end sometime, and as they say, this too shall pass.
> 
> **CW// minor violence, choking, past trauma, panic attacks, and emetophobia.**
> 
> _"Who can I be to you, if I am a stranger to me? How can I connect with you, if I am divorced from myself? If I cannot face the truth of who I am, how can I truly see you?"_ — Marya Hornbacher

Consciousness swam to Vanitas in waves.

For a while he didn't think, or really feel. Everything was hazy around him in a sensation he'd often felt before, years ago when control and finesse and strength hadn't been his yet. 

He wasn't in a rush to wake up. Master Xehanort would be waiting to resume or off on some other mission he didn't deign to inform Vanitas about, so he could take his time waking up. He'd never been punished for being unconscious for too long.

Though, in the heaviness of his limbs and the stiffness of his surroundings, Vanitas thought he'd taken it too far this time. Pain and wounds could make him collapse but over time the darkness stitched him back together. He rarely took more than a few hours, and certainly not as long as what it felt like right now.

Stifling a groan, Vanitas forced his eyes open. Dim, pale sunlight stained the white ceiling a softer shade of gray, and rhythmic movement in the corner of his eye made him blink. Sheer curtains drifted in on a single open window, catching on a breeze and lifting up high before drifting slowly down only to be carried away again. For a while he watched them, awareness slow to return.

His body was riddled with aches and pains, different than what he used to experience. Before, it was as if his own muscle was being thinly sliced away from the bone, piece by piece, inch by inch, carefully inspected before being laid flat again, and then onto the next. Now that he didn't have to suffer that anymore, it was a wonder he'd ever been able to. The constant, relentless assault had always worn his temper short, but without it he found himself restless. 

He didn't doubt that if he strayed too far from the path set before him, it would return. There was no such thing as luck, as far as Vanitas was concerned. To wait for luck was to wait for death — Ventus had taken all the good graces of the universe with him in the split, and Vanitas wasn’t eager to leave his fate to chance again.

But these were now-familiar aches. Sore muscles that he could stretch and feel the evidence of his effort. A particular sharp stab of pain in his shoulder jolted him fully to awareness though, and caging in his heartfelt groan, he cracked his eyes open.

He was in a bed.

A bed that wasn’t his.

Panic stole his breath quicker than he was prepared for, seizing his lungs as he shot forward and grasped the sheets laid across his lap, mind racing a mile a minute as he tried to catalogue  _ where  _ he was and  _ how  _ he’d gotten there. There were too many questions and a headache slipped in among all the other sore bruises and lingering aches.

A soft, feminine gasp beside him was more than enough. 

He tensed, muscles coiling tight, and it was more instinct than thought, more habit than any conscious decision on his part. Calling his keyblade in hand, he leapt towards her, hand outstretched for her throat, vision blurred from sleep and anger and panic and fear all at once, distorting his surroundings into a haze of colors he couldn’t distinguish, except the shape of a person. 

He collided with her, throwing the chair she sat in back to the floor and his knee landing in the soft part of her stomach, just under her ribs, so that her choked off gasp sounded strangled, both from his weight and the impact of being thrown to the floor. He dug his fingers into her neck, thumb under the beginning of jaw and fingers gouging lines into her nape, other arm raised above his head with his keyblade. Her soft hair was caught in his grasp, fluttering free from her face as shock broke into anger across her features.

Even though he had the upper hand, he was weak and light headed, and her hands scrabbling at him were strong and confident. One dug into the tendons of his wrist, thumb pressing into the pressure point there to slacken his grasp as the other grabbed him by the collar to swing him around. 

The world spinning didn’t help his fogged head and he grunted as he hit the ground, but he still had his blade in hand. He dismissed it, shoving his hand across his body so that when he called it back, he was able to backhand her across her temple, throwing her off him.

He wanted to jump up after her, but all he could manage was getting up to his elbows. His stomach roiled and he curled up on his hands and knees, gagging as he still tried to force himself upright. There’d be plenty of time to collapse  _ later,  _ and it didn’t matter how much he heaved, no unversed would be coming to help.

Sora had stitched his heart together, but something was still wrong with him. Unnatural, broken, scarred and edges too ragged to ever match together with anything else again and God he’d  _ tried,  _ he was so pathetic to have no other meaning to his life than to keep trying and begging for an unattainable goal. 

Mired in his spiraling thoughts and body betraying him, when he heard her move somewhere behind him, all he had the strength to do was curl up on his side, arms crossed over his head as bitter tears stung his eyes. His heart pounded in his ears, the wretched steady beat that still wasn’t any closer to  _ whole  _ even though he knew his heart station was fine, knew he was alone there as he should be.

He braced himself for the attacks he couldn’t deflect, shame and fear hitching his breath and distilling his thoughts down to her fine movements. Every shift she made on the carpet, the whisper of her clothes belying her body language, waiting for the swift cut in the air as she raised her keyblade up to bring it down hard on him.

He was saying something, familiar old words that never changed anything but it was if he’d grown disconnected from himself, only tied to the anticipation of her next move. His shivering grew stronger, and if he’d been in better control he might’ve realized he was ill, but even though he waited for what felt like forever, no blow came, and with a soft slip of a sigh, he fell back asleep, suddenly and deeply.

* * *

Aqua stood over him, eyes wide and keyblade trembling in her hands.

She’d been close to dozing off when he’d suddenly woken up, hands fisting the sheets and stirring her with a surprised gasp. He’d moved so  _ fast.  _ Aqua didn’t think even her best reaction timing could match him, twisting in her bed like a viper and tackling her to the ground in a ruthless take down that knocked her breath out from her. 

Shame coursed through her, burning her face and she stared down at her keyblade, aghast. Throwing it aside like it burned her, she knelt down beside him, trying to still the way her hands badly shook. 

A sleep spell had been quick and efficient, but she wondered if she’d just made it worse. He’d woken up like a frightened animal, and putting him to sleep like one was…

Swallowing hard, Aqua gently untucked him from his fetal position, carefully and hesitantly touching his body to try and cradle him in her lap. It felt strange to move him around like this, limp like a doll, malleable but still bone and muscle that resisted being moved. He was curled up so tight that Aqua was afraid applying any force would hurt him. Whatever lingering anger and fear she’d had was breaking apart, crumbling like wet sand forming a clumsy castle, disintegrating at the edges and growing soft in the middle.

What was wrong with him? What  _ happened? _

She gripped his wrists firmly, slowly increasing the pressure to try and encourage them away from his face. All of his muscles were still locked up tight despite being asleep, but after the first few tugs he let go, fisted hands uncurling. His wrist bone was bare beneath her touch, and the foreign intimacy of touching his skin made her cringe, not in disgust but in shame. But she shoved it all down, gritting her teeth hard and swallowing. She laid his arms down at his sides beat by beat, making sure no sudden movements might stir him. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d used a sleeping spell on him. That experience had remained ingrained in her, instinctual enough that her first thought had been to knock him out versus anything else, like  _ talking  _ to him, or… or… 

Nothing else came to mind, and her guilt multiplied tenfold. She deserved to feel bad. 

Arms down, Aqua briskly moved on to tucking his limp body against her lap, so she could cradle and lift him.

It’d gone by so fast, her heart was still pounding, hands still shaking as she tried to move his sticky hair from his sweaty face, cold and damp. She licked her lips and squeezed her eyes shut as a particularly violent shudder worked its way through her, the worst of her trembling ceasing.

It wasn’t because his violence had scared her. That’d long since been trained out of her. It was his  _ fear. _

It was his tiny cries not to hurt him, the litany of  _ I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’ll do better I’ll get it right. _

The answer rose from beneath the crumbled sand, solid and firm. Xehanort had done this. It was the only thing that made sense, but it was hard to reconcile the forcibly unconscious boy in her arms with the one who had perched on top Ven’s throne of sleep, ridiculing her and making cheap potshots. Vanitas was angry, violent, destructive, a  _ monster. _

In her arms, he still looked like Sora.

Aqua shook her head. There’d be plenty of time to think as he slept off her spell. For now, she needed to get him back into bed and… 

And what?

_ One thing at a time,  _ she told herself, gathering him in her arms to lift him up and across the few feet to her bed. She tucked him in with impersonal movements, knowing her touch was likely unwelcome even though he wouldn’t recognize or know it.

In his sleep, his brow was still furrowed, and it was obvious he was gritting his teeth. 

If it was Ven, what would she do?

Hesitantly, slowly, Aqua threaded her fingers through Vanitas’ hair. Morning was just barely encroaching on the castle, and her white sheets were pale with pre-dawn light, his hair a dark contrast against them. It was soft, a little coarse from the thick strands, but it startled her how human it made him seem. She was so used to patting Ven or Sora’s, or any of the kid’s heads. It made Vanitas seem uncomfortably similar to them, in a way she tried to rebel against.

_ He’s responsible for the scar across your face. _

_ He’s scared. _

_ He’s violent. _

_ He deserves a second chance. _

She slowed, then stopped, until she was just standing beside him. All of a sudden, she felt bone-tired, a weariness that hadn’t ever quite left her. She felt all the hours and days and months of walking in the darkness weigh on her. Looking down at Vanitas, she knew whatever was in front of her would be another long journey, hard and difficult and taking every ounce of her will to see through, and the honest truth was she didn’t know if she had it in her to go it alone.

Who was she to even try and help him? He wouldn’t want her help. She robotically grabbed the chair and brought it to the bedside again, setting it upright and collapsing in it. She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, settling her chin on her knees, seeing past Vanitas as she thought. 

Ven was right. Terra was right. Aqua was arrogant. She should’ve thought to ask Vanitas first, not leapt towards resignation. Even  _ if  _ he wanted to, which she very much doubted, could she even mend this? She’d done everything she could to alienate and push him down, doubt and suspicion and scorn coloring all her words and actions purposefully. Aqua was capable of being neutral, it was one of the first rules of diplomacy Master Eraqus had taught her, but she’d shucked that to hurt him as much as she could, to always make sure he  _ knew  _ she wouldn’t be fooled.

Even now her niggling paranoia still demanded to know if he was planning this, if he’d faked being scared. He was an actor, a liar. He could be trying to trick her, all of them. She knew how deeply insidious darkness could be, knew that Vanitas was like a feline predator, playing the long game. He could rank with the best of them, stalking relentlessly until he wore down his prey and could finally strike to attack. 

He’d done that with Sora, following him until Aqua led them straight to Ventus. 

No, she shook her head, burrowing her face until her knees pressed against her eyes, shutting out the red bleed of morning light. No, that couldn’t be faked. That was real. That was something he’d experienced before. 

She looked up at him again, finding her resolve. If he woke up to find her here again he’d just freak out again, possibly hurt himself somehow. She’d already done so when she’d found him last night, but just in case she whispered a quick curing spell, holding her breath to see if he’d wake up.

He seemed to finally relax enough to slip into a deeper sleep, brow straightening out and the muscle in his jaw relaxing as he sighed, falling limp. Quietly, Aqua stood and left. 

Finally free of the major concern, her temple pounded angrily as if to demand notice. Gingerly she felt around with cold fingertips against the heated skin. It wasn’t swollen yet, but just from how tender it felt she knew it’d bruise something colorful. Her mirror was in her closet, hidden in the heaviest fabrics she could find, including a curtain filched from the highest floor that hopefully no one would notice missing. But a sleeping spell was a light one, and she didn’t want to be in the same room with him as he woke and risk a repeat of what had just happened. She equally couldn’t chance moving him.

He’d be angry waking up in her bed, but she couldn’t risk moving him again, especially since the castle was waking up soon and being caught with him unconscious in her arms would lead to… reasonable doubt of  _ what  _ she’d done.

And those doubts would be well-founded, since she really had just knocked him out. Cringing, Aqua closed her door quietly, resolving to head to the training rooms where she had a spare toothbrush, then paused. 

Terra was right across from her. He probably wouldn’t mind if she knocked and woke him up to talk. She could ask him what he thought, what she should do. Ven had taken to Terra easily, forming a bond she envied, and even Vanitas had if their little conversation outside the castle doors was anything to go by. Something about Terra helped, and Aqua wanted to learn, wanted to do  _ right. _

Aqua crossed the meager feet to his door, thinking of the room she’d barely seen in glimpses when he left or came back, a made bed half hidden behind his frame, simple curtains and sparse decor. She poised her hand to knock.

_ No, _ Aqua thought coldly with sudden realization, and her other hand was on the doorknob, hiding her reflection in its brass surface, _ no,  _ he’d agree that she’d taken it  _ too far.  _

Aqua was too harsh. 

All her hope drained quickly, leaving behind that empty exhaustion and resignation that seemed to be all she felt recently. He wouldn’t believe her, or take her side. He’d be right to scold her for everything, and she didn’t have the energy to sit and listen when all she wanted was to  _ talk  _ to him because she missed him and it felt like it’d been forever since she felt known or seen.

Her hand slipped off the doorknob and she turned down the hall.

* * *

Over and over again, all she could think of was the way his stomach had leapt towards his spine. How revolting it was to watch someone gag with the full force of their body, as if trying to expel everything inside possible, a full body roll that made her own gag reflex work in sympathy.

If it wasn’t that, then it was how small he’d looked curled up at her feet, his words trembling with tears and choked on gasps, how much power and guilt she’d felt in the same hand. She knew darkness was intoxicating but this was a different kind of strength. 

At her feet, he’d been feeble. He’d given her everything she needed to decisively win their mental chess game, and it made her feel so sick she wanted to run to another world, to escape her own self altogether. 

She knew she’d come out of her long stint in the dark belly of their world changed, but it wasn’t until now,  _ again,  _ that her capacity to harm others with cold, clinical intent scared her. It felt like her first lesson with Sora all over again, how easy it’d been to wrap her chains around him and squeeze hard enough that she could’ve fractured bones, her own good sense superceded by methodical logic. All her options had been spread before her as simple as a game of chess, and it all it took was moving the pawns.

She hated herself, and what she’d become. There was no one to blame for her own impulse, no one to hate for turning her this way. She’d always been inclined towards the pragmatic, and what was practical was taking his weakness and using it against him. 

But, somewhere deep down inside, the child in her heart wept, and she recoiled from the tempting sway of the path before her. Like Terra, like Riku, she knew the path towards the light would always be fraught with temptation, but she had to be stronger than that, she  _ had  _ to be, because if she wasn’t…

She shoved past that thought, too afraid of what waited for her at the end of it. It was fine, she was fine. That she was still disgusted said she wasn’t too far gone yet, that she  _ wouldn’t  _ do it said she was still herself. She wouldn’t lose to this. 

She wanted to help Vanitas, not hurt him. Not anymore, at least. She was so lost in her thoughts, she found herself in the dining room before she knew it.

It slipped her mind as she pushed the kitchen doors open that  _ dawn  _ meant  _ Sora  _ and she yelped when she found him on his island counter, book open in his lap. All her distressing ruminating fled to the edges of her mind, overtaken by the sight of him. A quick, instinctual fluttering of her fingers at her temple assured her that her hair hid the worst of the damage, and she swore the moment she had something to eat she’d use her remaining energy to heal it.

“Sora!” She gasped, other hand flying up to her thudding heart. He gave her a funny look, and she peered at the clock on the wall. “Is it that time already?”

“Uhm,” Sora said, expression twisting, and there was a quick flash in his eyes, gone before she could discern it, “yeah? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Aqua replied instantly, quickly, and at his resulting look she grinned sheepishly. “Okay, I didn’t get a lot of sleep.” Not technically a lie, she  _ had  _ been dozing off a little before Vanitas had scared the shit out of her.

“Maybe I should make you some tea at night,” Sora said sympathetically, then gestured her over with a boyish wave, casual in a way she missed. “Come on, help me pick something and then maybe you can get a little nap in.”

In a very beautiful way, it felt like the entirety of the night before hadn’t happened, and that this was just another early morning.

Nothing about his demeanor suggested he suspected anything. Aqua was always missing out on sleep and he’d grown used it over time. She could hide Vanitas, like a terrible secret, and he wouldn’t tell anyone because Vanitas was paranoid like that. At most he’d  _ confront  _ her, but it wouldn’t go beyond them, and Aqua could go back to routine.

She walked up to the counter and peeked at the cover of the cookbook. It was in French, predictably since a lot of Sora’s books were given to him by Little Chef, but the recipe it was opened to looked delicious and sweet. 

“How about this one?” Sora asked, leaning towards her as his eyes read the ingredient list. 

“Looks great,” Aqua said, and Sora beamed. 

“Good! Hey, c’mere,” he said to the pots and pans and cutlery, holding the book open to them as they leaned in to peer. “This one. Can you do it? And these.” He flipped a few pages to two other recipes.

The measuring cup turned to the teapot, whose lid popped up and came back down neatly, and then in a mess of noise and dishes cluttering together they got to work. Sora had nudged and tweaked the magic, and they were taking over more and more of the process as Sora imparted his knowledge onto them. 

Of course, Sora had asked Merlin for help, and so most of the cutlery had more fresh personality than they had any right to, and didn’t hesitate to do things as they pleased if they thought it was a better idea. Sora was still working on finessing it, but it had already taken a load off all their backs to have a staff, plus the cantankerous cleaning tools Merlin had graciously given them. 

It was kind of amazing, truth be told, and beyond Aqua’s experience. Before she might’ve resented that, but her fondness for Sora edged it into awe instead.

“Soon enough they’ll be able to do it on their own,” Sora huffed, chest puffing out in pride, and Aqua smiled. She reached over and ruffled his hair, eliciting a shy laugh from him, and for just a moment, Vanitas’ face was superimposed over Sora’s, scowling even in his sleep, and she yanked her hand back. 

Nervously, she added, “Axel will finally get a break from kitchen duty,” and Sora’s genuine laughter hid her shallow one. He slipped off the counter to make her coffee from the brew ready as was routine, and something warm in her uncurled, chasing away the lingering cold from avoiding Terra and seeing Vanitas.

_ I’ll still believe in you. _

Sora wouldn’t judge her.

She waited until they sat —her properly, him cross-legged— on the barstools at the counter, Sora keeping an eye on the kitchen staff in case of a problem, with their coffee and hot chocolate and sweet bread before hesitantly approaching the topic.

“Sora,” she began, hands around her cup fidgeting. It was still hot, so foam and steam obscured the liquid surface, but she still ended up lacing her fingers over the mouth of the mug so that steam was trapped in the cradle of her hands. It was warm, but it didn’t hurt yet, and it would make sure she wouldn’t catch even a hint of her reflection. “Do you remember when you said everyone deserves a chance?”

He gave her a startled look. It had been several days since that conversation, and they hadn't referenced it since. But he’d always been sensitive and quick on the uptake, and after a measured moment of consideration he lowered his eyes and faced forward. It wasn’t a rejection, but a means of acceptance. “Yeah,” Sora said, blowing on his mug and taking a sip only to hiss and poke his tongue out when it still proved to be too hot. “Owwww.”

Aqua giggled, but she quickly stamped it down. He was being silly for her sake, she knew. She took a deep steadying breath. “Well… I changed my mind. About him.”

Giving up any pretense at being casual, Sora practically threw his mug of chocolate as he whirled around to face her, face bright and smile almost blinding.  _ “Really?” _

He didn’t seem to doubt her at all, and there was a relief so poignant Aqua didn’t know what to do with it but try and control it. But she couldn’t help her small smile. “Yeah I…” her fingers were damp with the trapped moisture now and she cleared her throat, and just as she was poised to speak she hesitated.

He… wouldn’t like her telling anyone about this, probably. Not even Sora. And if she was going to try, she couldn’t trip right in front of the starting line. Scrambling to replace the words, she blurted, “I was wrong, and… and he deserves a chance, too.”

She looked up and found Sora grinning so hard his eyes were crinkling, and he reached forward to wrap his arms around her shoulders for a quick, tight hug, easily moving to kneel on his rocking barstool to reach her. “Ven’ll be so happy to hear this,” Sora enthused, voice overly loud by her ear, and Aqua panicked.

“No, no, you can’t tell him!” She said, grabbing his arms with her damp palms to push him back. 

Sora frowned, puzzled as he sat back in his chair on his knees. “Why?”

_ Because he won’t believe me either? _

“I’ll do it on my own,” Aqua replied instead, and Sora seemed to accept that. He didn’t seem to find it weird that it was all she was confessing where she would’ve questioned it, but that was part of Sora’s comforting charm. He knew when to just listen. 

Even though it felt a little silly to just blurt that out and not the rest, it still felt good to be believed in. Maybe they would all fight her on it, but at least Sora wouldn’t, and that was enough to embolden her to  _ try.  _

“You’re always telling us to ask for help when we need it,” Sora said, head cocked to the side as he watched her. His eyes looked dark, surrounded by his heavy lashes and brown hair edging towards blond at the tips. It was true. She’d learned her lesson well about how much communication was needed to prevent another repeat of all the lies and betrayal between all of them, all the misunderstood intentions and truths. “But that goes for you, too.”

He reached up with a warm, tan hand to ruffle her hair, and her mouth dropped open when the bells sang and the healing rush of a spell swept over her, even lightening the burden of her long night. 

With a featherlight touch, Aqua skimmed her temple to find her bruise gone. Sora quirked a smile, as if knowing, and Aqua’s heart swelled with gratitude. Sora was too good for her.

She would never be Sora with his endless optimism and faith, but she’d at least live up to his belief in her. She owed him, and Vanitas, at least that much, and she’d already failed him a thousand times over. 

Eraqus had left her a path well-trodden to walk in his footsteps after, but she just couldn’t fill his shoes. And though it was a safe road and one that wouldn’t fall under her, she had to try.

* * *

The moment he opened his eyes, he knew he’d been hit with a sleeping spell. 

They were so noticeably different that he woke up alert and conscious, jagged bits of his memory returning as he sat up and surveyed the room.

Empty.

He was positive it’d been Aqua. There was no one else that efficient, or well practiced, and he remembered the taste of her spells, cold and precise, no room for doubt or hesitation. He rubbed at his jaw, working the rest of his lethargy out.

What the hell was going on?

Without regard for her belongings, he ripped the pathetic sheets off him —a lingering moment of regret, or a guilty conscience, he contemplated with a sneer— and immediately felt for his shoes. 

There were none, and he looked down like an idiot to check. His reflexive smile was humorless as he realized that, against his better judgement, he  _ had  _ gotten used to some things living in this thrice damned castle. He’d never been in a place where he could develop  _ domestic  _ habits, but without realizing it he had. It sent a curling, poisonous feeling through him, and he couldn’t untangle the dread from the hate from the self-loathing. Whatever, going barefoot wouldn’t kill him. His feet sunk into the plush carpet, nicer than the one in his room he noted.

He was reasonably certain she wasn’t in the room, but he still carefully looked around every corner before venturing out in the middle of it, heading towards the door on the opposite side. Since the windows were at the head of the bed, it only stood to reason that parallel to it was the corridor to the castle proper. He  _ could  _ just open a dark corridor and drop himself off in his room and save himself the trip, but he didn’t need to give  _ her  _ another reason to jump at his throat. 

For a second, he felt the ghost of her under his hand, and he blinked, strangely dizzy. He’d choked her, right? Her face was obscured as he thought back, but the flexing of her throat against his palm, the grit of her nails in his skin as she wrenched his wrist away— all of that was clear in memory. He was pretty sure he’d clocked her against the temple too, which made him grin savagely.

Good. At least she would know he wasn’t completely useless even when he got those strange attacks. Better that she fear him than pity him. 

He scrubbed at his face with both hands and exhaled gustily. Fuck. Alright. He’d deal with all of this later. A quick glance at the windows told him it was nearly time for breakfast, and he didn’t want to have to deal with Ven or Sora noisily trying to find him on top of this. 

Vanitas peeked out of her doors and found the halls empty. He knew Terra and Riku were on this floor, but neither of them seemed to be there, unless they were still asleep. Highly doubtful, but he didn’t want to risk it. He shut the door quietly behind him and snuck away, peeking around corners and always looking behind his back.

The castle always felt strange to him. The first few times he’d been there, all he’d done was follow the aching thread that ensnared his heart and had tied itself around Ven. He’d hated that bond as much as he’d depended on it. Change was unpredictable, and for the worst half the time. Every day he woke up here was another challenge, one he couldn’t forfeit even if he wanted to, and some days he desperately wanted to be gone.

He couldn’t stand them. He hated them. He hated their laughter and smiles and meal times and chore lists and hobbies they demanded he have. He hated how routine was  _ routine,  _ how each day he was threatened with it ending, how he couldn’t tell if he wanted it to end or if he wanted it to continue and most of all, he hated how he didn’t know which was worse. 

He’d lost everything he had and was, and now they made him sit at their table of light and simplistic happiness and they expected him to be  _ grateful  _ when nearly two thirds of the people there had beat him into the floor before.

But there was nowhere for him to go. He didn’t know what to do, or what he was meant for. Sometimes, he found himself just waiting. For what, he couldn’t really say, only that not all that dies stay dead, and he was living proof walking their halls like a ghost.

The castle felt like it was swallowing him up. He’d known that before it’d been redeemed, it’d been a place of oblivion, designed to trap anyone who wandered its halls, stripping them of their memories and their self until they forgot why they were there or what they were looking for. It was cruel, and an insidious place. Of course it’d been  _ her  _ to to turn it into so.

The white walls stretched high enough to make him dizzy, and all the windows let in every shred of sunlight possible. There was nowhere to hide here, no dark space or corner or nook and cranny to be safe. Everything was on display, intentionally he figured with a scowl. Anything to banish darkness from the minds and hearts of all who lived here.

What better way to hold them accountable than to teach them shame?

If it wasn’t the antithesis to his very existence, he would almost be impressed.

Regardless, it served its purpose. He felt unwelcome, even without Aqua’s bludgeon-fisted attempts at badgering him into obeisance and some kind of copy model of Ven. Maybe he could grudgingly respect her strength and control, but he couldn’t forgive trying to mold him into  _ that. _

It didn’t matter anyways. Eventually, his time here would be up. 

It wasn’t until he was halfway to his room that he noticed how easily he moved in his body. Since Sora had fixed his heart he hadn’t had those aches and pains, but he knew for a fact he’d pushed it too hard last night. He should be feeling  _ something,  _ but there was nothing. Alarm bells rung in his head, clanging like a siren whooping round and round, overwhelming the rest of him.

Why wasn’t he hurting? Why had he woken up in her room? He should’ve been on the floor of the training room, in fact he should’ve been alert  _ hours  _ ago, not just recently. Logic said she’d found him, but how? And even so,  _ why  _ would she have taken him to her room?

To finally make good on all her subtle threats? Then why wake up in her bed?

There was too many questions with too many possible answers, and a shiver wracked down his spine. He couldn’t risk that again. He’d gotten too complacent, finding…  _ luxury  _ in their hare-brained routine. He needed to stay on his toes and not be lulled into their false sense of comfort.

He kept close to the walls, squinting when the sunlight hit him in the eyes directly. It was only when he was finally on the hall their rooms were on that he bumped into someone.

They rounded the corner at the same time, and Vanitas jerked backwards to avoid touching Ven, who blinked. He was bathed in the morning light, looking bright-eyed and bushy tailed with pink cheeks and a ready grin that he offered Vanitas. Shit, if Ven was coming back here, that meant he’d made a late appearance to breakfast already.

“What’re you doing?” Ven asked curiously, cocking his head to the side. 

“Nothing,” Vanitas grunted quickly. That wasn’t too unusual. He was in a foul mood most times than not. “What do you want.”

Ven rolled his eyes. “Right, of course, none of my business.” Maybe idiots  _ could  _ learn sometimes, after the dozen of times Vanitas had shoved that into his face. “Come on, it’s time for breakfast. Are you coming?”

Vanitas resisted the urge to tug on his clothes uncomfortable. Waking up in a bed or not, his clothes were still a day old and dried with sweat. But, despite everything else being detestable at the castle — and he’d rather rip his own teeth out than admit this to anyone,  _ but —  _ the shower and bath were the only things he didn’t hate. Sora had shown him how to make bubble baths in their joint bathroom between their rooms, and even though Vanitas never asked for it, Sora had made sure then on to always restock the little bottle that made the copious bubbles, never commenting when it quickly ran dry. 

A master at acting he may be, but even he couldn’t magically make his clothes look different. Ven’s gaze drifted down, and his brows rose. “Where are your shoes?”

“Do you really want me to say it?” Vanitas asked dryly, and Ven scowled, which always sent a thrill of triumph through Vanitas. He’d made a game of getting on each and every single one of the guardian’s nerves, and it was a constant source of amusement figuring out exactly how hard to press their buttons to get their irritation but not their rancor.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Ven said stiffly, the  _ none of your business  _ echoing between them. Vanitas gave him a look at that, and Ven made a face as if he’d sucked on a lemon. If Vanitas was a real piece of work, so was Ven. “So?”

It took Vanitas a moment to remember his question. “...start without me.” As loathe as he was to say it, because Vanitas actually enjoyed the meal times even if the company was less than desirable, he would rather a quick shower if he had the choice.

Which he did. Ven didn’t even bat an eye as he shrugged. “Okay,” he replied simply. Stupid Ven, always so easy to believe in anything. “Better be quick though, Sora made your favorites.”

“I don’t have favorites!” Vanitas snapped automatically, but his stomach did a little flip in anticipation. Ven had barely turned his back before Vanitas was quick footing it to his room, leaping into the shower to do a barebones wash before dragging his spare change of clothes on.

The breakfast table was sprawling with food as always. They were all in their usual seats, and Vanitas was last. As soon as he entered the room, he felt her eyes on him. The sunlight streamed in through stained glass windows, throwing rainbows on their pristine table spread. Roxas and Xion were both leaning against Axel, still attempting sleep, and Terra was conversing quietly with Ven and Riku, who were intently listening. Aqua sat at the head of the table, and when he dragged his gaze up to meet hers, she looked away first.

A sick sense of pleasure crawled up inside him, and when Vanitas took his seat Ven looked at him weirdly.

“Why are you smiling?”

“No reason,” Vanitas replied, reaching across to stab his fork into a plate full of food. He served himself and made sure the sugar pot didn’t skimp on his cup, though it always tried to. There was a chip on the lid, courtesy of him, but the pot seemed hellbent on trying to give him less sugar. 

He speared a bite of egg, resting it on his tongue as he watched her. She looked practically sick, face pale, and whatever doubts Vanitas had doubled. No one else at the table was watching them, or giving them any particularly meaningful glances, meaning no one knew. And if she was keeping it a secret, it was because she had a reason to. 

The next question was if  _ Vanitas  _ wanted to play the same game. He chewed thoughtfully, and then decided that he had never really cared for the orthodox. Lying in wait had never really been his style, truth be told.

“Hey Aqua,” he said, and he relished in the way she flinched and the entire table fell silent. Even Roxas and Xion woke up, everyone turning to stare at him. He never addressed her, at least not willingly, and he knew he was playing with fire but he couldn’t keep away. It was like a ball rolling downhill, gaining more and more momentum, and he knew what was waiting for him at the bottom but he didn’t care. 

She stiffed, shoulders so taut he could see the tendons in her neck. Her turtleneck and the wisps of her hair hid it, but he wondered if the bruises still lingered. With careful, painful control, she looked up at him.

“I  _ really  _ hope it isn’t hurting too much,” he crooned, grinning wide as he swiveled the end of his fork to tap the rounded edge like a pendulum against his temple twice, “but payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

The difference was, she was playing to win and he was playing not to lose, and those meant two very different games.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sora holding Vanitas' face real close going "we are TRYING to help you please stop sabotaging yourself" and Vanitas is just, you know, like nya.
> 
> Also, forgot to add this so a quick edit, but here's the fic that inspired the little bubble bath line. Give it a read if you'd like! [Bubble Bath](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17827193)


	4. and all the king's men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That awkward moment when Terra sees himself in Vanitas and Eraqus in Aqua.
> 
> Finally the comfort in 'hurt/comfort' comes into play! But it'll hurt. At least, it hurt me to write it. 
> 
> **tw // emetophobia, panic attacks**
> 
> _Yes, there is a place / where someone loves you both before / and after they learn what you are._  
—Neil Hilborn

It was the first time silence had ever descended fully on the breakfast table. 

Silverware clinked awkwardly as a few of them stopped eating, looking curiously between Vanitas and Aqua. He was almost tempted to check their reactions, to see what they might be thinking or feeling. As it was, tension permeated the air, thick enough that Vanitas could probably cut it with a butterknife, nevermind a keyblade. Mixed in, like oil and water, was blunt curiosity, the noisy rubbernecking that manifested in the burning stares switching between him and her. 

There seemed to be a minor note of irritation, and Vanitas _ almost _turned to look at Ventus, but he bit the impulse down, more eager to wait for Aqua’s reaction. 

The rainbow colored light dimmed as a cloud passed over the sun, and Aqua looked like she could leap across the table and strangle him. Her face colored into a rosy hue, particularly noticeable against her hair, along with the way she lifted her chin, as if refusing to be cowed. At the thought, his grin grew.

When Aqua finally spoke, her words sounded rough and thin, as if her temper was hanging by a single, frayed thread. “If you’re asking about my headache,” she said slowly, carefully, “then I would think you payed me back for that already.”

He glanced at the scar marring her face, the thinnest sliver of a reminder, before meeting her eyes again. “Seems like the scales still aren’t even, to me,” he said, dropping his fork to lightly prop it against the table, middle finger idly swaying it back and forth at the top. He held her gaze meaningfully before dropping it to her neck, right hand twitching in memory. 

He was purposefully egging her on, and he _ knew _ he was undoing all of Sora’s hard work in trying to graciously integrate him with the rest of them, but what Vanitas knew, what _ Aqua _knew, and what Sora didn’t, was that Vanitas didn’t belong with them. Couldn’t, really. He was the very antithesis to their nature, and he wasn’t interested in changing himself just so he could be buddy-buddy with the very people who hated him.

Vanitas didn’t belong, and there was a countdown ticking steadily away, a constant hum in the back of his mind that soon his time would be up, the reckoning would come, and whatever followed would be entirely out of his control. Wrestling the reigns here was the very least he could do. He wouldn’t dance in the palm of her hand, or anyone’s anymore. 

He knew all too well what it was to be the puppet of someone else’s machinations, body distorted and bent further than it should go as the lines of fate kept an intimate stranglehold on his throat.

“Really,” Vanitas continued, leaning back to slouch in his chair, one foot dragging back to press into the ground, ready at any moment to leap from his seat if needed, “I should be thanking you.” "Did something happen?" Terra said, deliberately pointing out the elephant in the room. Vanitas wasn't surprised. It would've been either him, or Ven, who felt as if he had a right to know. Terra just lacked tact, for all his clumsy misguided kindness.

"Master Aqua was kind enough to give me a hand in training yesterday," Vanitas said simply, lips curling into a meaningful smile. 

"Why do you have to say it like that?" Ven demanded, scowling fierce enough to tick Vanitas' interest. "You use your words to hurt others."

"Should you of all people really be saying that?" Vanitas drawled lightly. Maybe the others wouldn't know, but Vanitas had witnessed the number of times Ven had criticized Aqua for her _ noble _nature. As if on cue, he caught her stiffening in his peripheral, and he turned to look at her.

"Enough," Aqua said quietly, less force and more gentle plea. "We can talk about it later. Let's eat," and she picked her utensils up pointedly. 

His own point made, Vanitas shrugged and moved to eat. Far be it from him to neglect eating food when he was performing the world's most brilliant balancing act in staying here on their good graces in the first place. 

Hunkering down, Axel quietly groaned. "Why is everyone here so awkward?"

Xion shrugged. "Do you really want the answer to that?"

"No."

Vanitas snickered.

* * *

She wasn’t really surprised when Terra cornered her after breakfast. 

Aqua had beat a hasty retreat to Master Eraqus’ study, pretending to rifle through papers for the upcoming class when in reality she was gathering her wits.

Wasn’t Vanitas the type to keep to himself? Wouldn’t he have confronted her _ in private? _

There was no rhyme or reason to why he felt inclined to ruin breakfast with his tantrum, which was exactly what it was. For all that she pitied him, she wasn’t blind to his genuine nature, either. He thrived on conflict and on strong emotions, and instigating them was the very root of his being. 

Or maybe, she thought, hands stilling before her as she stared unseeing into the mass of white, maybe it was fear. If their roles were reversed, if she’d woken up in _ his _ room, had been put to sleep by _ him, _wouldn’t she have immediately told everyone? Or at the very least, Terra and Ven? Her reasoning would be that he was dangerous, and to keep an eye on him, but he didn’t have that safety net of knowing the others would defend him.

He was betting on their collective honor and sense of justice, even when he doubted them, and she wondered what it was like to constantly be in limbo when it came to trusting others. Even if she doubted if they liked her, at least she had faith in their morals and their good senses and to do right by her no matter what.

She sighed, purposefully letting go of her initial irritation. She couldn’t blame him for throwing her into hot water when all she’d done so far was toss him between the pan and the fire herself. If she wanted this to change, it started _ now, _and in her reaction to him. It was time for her to move on, and to grow up.

The game they were playing had changed entirely and he still didn’t know it.

Lost in her thoughts and trying to figure out how to win his trust, she didn’t notice the door to the study opening until it was closed a tad too harshly, jarring her violently from her thoughts. She whipped around with a gasp, right hand flexing in the split moment it took for her to recognize Terra’s looming form at the door, blocking off her sole escape route. It took another moment to temper her heart beat, berating herself for being so skittish. They were in the castle, as safe as can be. There was no reason to be so startled. And, belatedly, that it was _Terra, _who’d never hurt her.

She still couldn’t calm down.

“Sorry, sorry,” Terra mumbled out of habit, and Aqua wondered how long it’d been since she’d veered from ‘normal’ in this regard, the difference painted so clearly in their reactions. She stared at him, thoughts derailing somewhere, too, between _ Vanitas isn’t ever going to trust you _ and _ you finally came to find me. _

_ You’re here. _

And deep inside her embittered soul, his name was kind.

“Are you alright?” Terra asked gently, voice warm and soft. He hardly raised his voice anymore, and she didn’t know if it was because his temper had mellowed out or for some other reason. Even his laughter was muted, still there but not the near-startling rambunctious note it had once been.

“Oh,” she murmured, clenching her fist tight and releasing it with controlled intent. Subtly, she tried to take even breaths to calm herself. “Yes, I’m fine. You surprised me,” she added on needlessly, for lack of anything else to say.

Terra’s gaze flickered around the room, landing in some spots and lingering before drifting away. His lashes still feathered over his brown eyes, and when he finally looked at her she felt pinned beneath his stare. Despite all the years that had passed, his straight-forward honesty was still stupefying.

“What happened?” Terra asked, but it sounded less like a question, and everything in Aqua fell all at once, like hard heavy stones sinking through water, slowly but surely. This wasn’t a kind tone, or a careful one. It was borderline accusatory. Tension lined her jaw and her shoulders, back stiffening as realization fell into place.

He wasn’t here to see her, or to really talk to her. He was blaming her without even having the full story. It was as if he’d slapped her with that single line alone, and she felt cold and alone without him there to believe in the best side of her, that she had a _ reason _for how she’d acted.

When had everything grown so complicated and screwed up between them? How long would it take to get back to where they’d been, trust implicit and easy and in every thread of the connection tying them together? When would she have her friend back, where she didn’t have to hide the pain lining every inch of her back?

Something similar to grief, familiar in its scaling intensity, threaded itself around her throat, and it took a herculean effort to keep her voice steady as she tried for the benefit of the doubt. “What do you mean?” She asked softly. Deftly, she tucked her hands behind her back, gripping the edge of the desk to ease something of what she was feeling where he couldn’t see. 

Before, he would’ve known with just a glance at her, but no matter how she waited he didn’t seem to notice. _Look at me, _she thought, staring at him, _just look at me._

“With Vanitas,” Terra stated impatiently, and it felt like he’d stolen her breath. 

Suddenly, indignation rose like a tidal wave, and _ real _ anger licked at her. Why did she have to defend herself to him? Why couldn’t he trust her? Why was _ twelve years _paid in penance to save them just thrown out the window like it meant nothing?

Clipped, Aqua bit out, “Exactly as we said earlier. I helped him train, he accidentally swung wrong. Now, if you don’t have anything else to ask, I have a class to attend to.” With burning eyes, she glanced behind her just long enough to identify the papers she needed to grab and then forced herself to walk steadily away from Eraqus’ desk, skirting Terra with such little space between them she could feel the warmth of his body beside hers, and then through the door, the castle suddenly cold against her skin. 

She was fine, Aqua thought. She could do this, even without Terra’s help, or Ven's. 

It was just her luck that she bumped into Axel around the corner.

Her nose crashed into the planes of his chest hard enough to hurt, and he wrapped his long hands around her shoulders to steady her as she stumbled. “Oh!” Axel blurted, and despite everything in her saying _ she was fine, _she looked up at his thoughtful green eyes and something of the hurt must’ve shown on her face, because he added, more quietly, “oh.”

Without preamble, the grip on her shoulders tightened. “Come on,” Axel said, ushering her away from her classroom.

Aqua turned towards it, not fighting him but lingering. “But I have to—”

“Nope,” Axel said, “that can wait. _ This _can’t.”

It felt like everything inside her was barely being held together within the thin frame of her cupped hands and at his words, she felt a little more overwhelmed. “But I need to—”

“And I said no,” Axel cut her off again, not unkindly. His hand moved from her shoulder that was closest to him to wrap itself around her firmly, and he lead her towards a lounge she thought with raising panic that she _ couldn’t _go into, shouldn’t, not now, not alone, not without Terra and Ven and the person who belonged there, but her words died on her tongue with her mounting panic as the heavy door crept closer with Axel steadily guiding her there. His touch practically burned her.

He swung the door open, and the first thing Aqua noticed with torrential relief was the smell of dust in the air. 

She was shaking under Axel’s arm, and she didn’t know why she was suddenly so overwhelmed when she’d been just fine moments ago, but she stopped fighting him as Axel guided her towards the single armchair by the fireplace. When she blinked her watery eyes, it was almost like she could still see him there beside a lit fire, his indulgent drink of choice on the circular side table laden with texts and papers, and the plush rug beneath her heels was as soft and deep as she remembered, and Eraqus was alive for just a moment, in this room. 

And she blinked again and the room was as dark as when they’d entered, no drink on the table but the lingering books and loose leaf still piled there. Her knees felt weak as Axel sat her down, and she watched numbly as he kneeled beside the fireplace to swiftly light it. It would take some time before it became as large as it could be, and as Aqua perched on the edge of the chair, she watched Axel snagged the foot rest to drag over to be across from her. Gently, he eased the paperwork from her tight grip to set it on top the stack on the table.

He sat, folding his long limbs in awkward angles to accommodate the short length of the stool and the scant distance between them, and for a moment they lingered in silence broken only by her shaky breaths and the crackling fire. The logs in the fireplace were still fresh enough, because of course this room had remained frozen in time like the rest of the castle. It’d only been the few weeks they’d been here that had let dust collect. She didn’t know if she could’ve handled walking into the lounge if it had been as timeless as the castle had first been. There were too many memories here — of evenings spent listening to his melodious voice tell the wondrous stories of the old heroes, of knowing he'd be _here _to find after a nightmare, or when she felt lonely. Her throat grew tight and she blinked rapidly, trying fruitlessly to keep the cascade of thoughts at bay, and she interlocked her fingers in her lap, nails digging into the back of her hands to anchor herself.

But the warmth of the fire and Axel’s quiet, steady presence calmed her, and slowly she relaxed, staring into the flames. She needed to get it together, the kids weren’t going to teach themselves, and she couldn’t keep Vanitas waiting. She’d have to talk to Terra eventually too, maybe… apologize, for being distant. She had to try, first. And there was still Ven, with endless misunderstandings, or maybe not misunderstandings but things had changed now and she owed it to Ven to tell him, plus the correspondence with Yen Sid and the king on what problem areas needed surveillance and where to send Riku.

She took a steadying breath and gave Axel a smile. “Thanks, I think I needed that. But I’m good to—”

“Nuh-uh,” Axel cut her off a third time, and if she had the spare energy to be irritated she would’ve shown it. But there was nowhere for her to draw on that pride now, gone in the flash of anger at Terra. “You don’t just bump into me looking two seconds from crying and then just waltz out of here like nothing's wrong.”

“I wasn’t crying!” Aqua said quickly in an attempt to finally get one full sentence out.

Axel gave her a look. “Spare me,” he said dryly. “Maybe its none of my business,” he added tartly, but then his voice rounded out, warm, kind, “but I think you need someone to talk to.”

Then, she looked at him. _ Really _looked at him. From his messy red hair, to his serpent like green eyes, the angular features of his face that left him perpetually appearing impish, to the way he didn’t smile. He was taking her seriously, no feigned pleasantries, no facades between them to hide behind. He’d caught her with all her defenses stripped and now she couldn’t fling them back up again like she had before.

It reminded her of that night at the top of the tower, seeking company amongst the stars. How he hadn’t betrayed her trust or rejected her then, and how much warmer she’d felt just by holding onto his jacket.

And as if he knew she was a dam about to burst, he added a little wryly, “You don’t gotta confide in me, but that doesn’t mean you can’t.”

It was as if he’d found the single loose thread in the tapestry of all her defenses and with one remorseless tug, forced it to unravel entirely. To her mortification, her vision grew blurry as large tears formed, spilling over even without a single blink, and she’d never cried like this before, steady and simple, but it was as if everything had finally bled over into the physical.

“Oh,” Axel said, taken aback, but then he clucked his tongue. Without hesitation, he moved his stool to be beside her, and then drew her with agonizing kindness to rest her fast against his shoulder, giving her the comfort of being hidden. His large hand chafed her upper back, against her bare skin, but it felt like he was the single warmest spot of compassion and sympathy that she’d felt since before she could remember. 

Her quiet tears turned into sobs she bit back the sound of, pressing her face into the slender jut of his shoulder as she soaked the fabric of his shirt with tears, and she couldn’t keep up with the way the coiled tension built along her spine unraveled. The pit of dread in her stomach disappeared, and she cried like a child.

Axel was murmuring something she couldn’t hear, but his voice sounded gentle, and slowly she calmed down. That pleasant emptiness following a good cry spread over her like the gentle wash of an ocean wave over sand, and she breathed in deep. He smelled like embers and smoke, and underneath that was a hint of something a little metallic. Unusual and strange from what she was used to, but it was soothing to feel the embrace and warmth of another person around her.

The calm feeling didn’t last long.

Realization crept in by degrees, until Aqua stiffened beneath the hand lingering on her shoulder. Pressing her palm against his shoulder, Aqua backed up, sniffling.

Axel watched her, placid. “Better?” 

She carefully searched his expression but found no disapproval or criticism. He was just watching her steadily, as if her being… not okay wasn’t really an issue for him per se. The pressure on her chest lightened considerably at that thought. 

“...Yes,” Aqua answered slowly, sniffling. It wouldn’t do to rub her nose on her hand or sleeve but she didn’t have anything else to substitute. Then, in a move that shocked her, Axel shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to her.

“Use that,” he said.

Aqua vigorously shook her head, pushing it back to him. “I couldn’t!”

And after everything that had just happened, he rolled his eyes. _At her._ “You already cried on it _and_ got snot everywhere, what's a little more? Unless you want to walk to your room dripping everywhere, then be my guest.” He gestured with a little wave towards the door.

_ Absolutely not, _Aqua thought with horror, clenching her fingers tight in the soft fabric. Awkward but needing to, she wiped surreptitiously across her face. Clutching it close to her chest, she mumbled, “I’ll get it cleaned for you.”

He shrugged, dismissing her concern and tilting his head slightly, still watching her with that patient gaze. It was familiar in a nagging sort of sense. She wondered if this calm experience he seemed to have came from dealing with Roxas and Xion. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Axel offered again. 

And, to her surprise, Aqua found that she did.

The fire had built up into something mighty and proper now, drying the lingering tears on her face and making her skin feel tight. She squeezed his jacket, taking a shuddering breath.

“I don’t know where to begin,” Aqua admitted. When, in all these many years, was the last time she’d really confided in someone? Even the bits and pieces Sora coaxed from her had been piecemeal at best.

“Maybe with what happened right before I saw you?” Axel suggested, settling on his footrest. He leaned forward to rest an elbow on her armchair, a bit close for comfort, but Aqua realized he must be uncomfortable without a backrest to lean against. All at once the magnitude of his kindness hit her, that he’d take time out of his day to actually check on her. Her heart felt full.

She thought back to her encounter with Terra, trying to pin what exactly had upset her so deeply. After a bit of thought, she chewed on her lip, looking down at her lap where Axel’s jacket was bunched up. Methodically, she began to fold it properly. “Terra came to talk to me, about Vanitas. He… he thought I did something to him.”

And that hurt more than anything Vanitas could ever do to her.

“And did you?” Axel asked. She glanced at him sharply, but there was no judgement or bias, just open regard. 

She relaxed. “No. Well, yes, but not like that.” She contemplated her next words, and began carefully, “I put him to sleep, because he tried to attack me. But only because I scared him.” Saying it aloud made her chest ache. Vanitas had just been scared. Like that, it made him sound young and vulnerable. She took a deep breath to continue. “But Terra already thought I’d hurt him when I would never do that without just cause.”

“So why didn’t you tell him that?” Axel asked, and that he didn’t doubt her sent the same sweeping relief it had with Sora. 

“He wouldn’t believe me,” she dismissed, shaking her head. “He thinks I’m _ too harsh.” _She bit those words out like she was tearing through flesh with her teeth. “He doesn’t trust me anymore.”

Axel hummed contemplatively, and finally said, meaningfully, “Sounds like that's a two-way street.”

“What do you mean?” Aqua asked, frowning, hackles metaphorically rising as she prepared to defend herself.

“Trust is never just on one side,” Axel said, splaying his hands open to show he wasn’t picking a fight. “And you two were separated for what, ten years? That’s a long time to be without someone. You can’t just expect everything would stay the same.”

But she had.

She slumped, staring at her interlaced hands with mute surprise. That’s exactly what she’d expected. That like their beloved castle, they’d stayed the same, untouched by everything. That falling into step would be as simple as Sora and Riku made it look. That she wouldn’t have to fight to keep their friendship, too.

Frustration made her eyes smart with tears again, but she refused to cry twice. How much more would this war take from her? When would it be over?

She could feel Axel observing her, and heard his short intake of breath. “Talk to him. Nothing’s going to change if you keep running away.”

“Why do I have to,” she said petulantly aloud, without meaning to. Instantly, she colored.

Axel burst into laughter. “Well, that’s a first!”

Groaning, Aqua shoved her face into the clean spaces of Axel’s jacket, but she was grinning. It felt like it’d been ages since she’d just been _ her _without all the decorum. She took in a deep breath of embers and smoke and looked up at Axel over the bundle of dark fabric. Then she tugged it down, lowering her gaze to somewhere around his shoulders.

She'd misjudged him again, somehow. Lazy and unmotivated and prone to mischief, but he had a kind heart, one big enough to help her even with all her judgement. She understood suddenly the difference in maturity.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, and she couldn’t quite tell why she was so contrite, only that she was.

“Hmm,” Axel hummed, crossing his arms, and then there was a gentle tap under her chin, coaxing her to look up. He moved that same finger to tap against his cheek, quirking a corner of his mouth. “Not quite what I want to hear.”

Even she couldn’t stop her smile this time. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, and she meant it.

* * *

Thirty minutes had gone and passed since the start of class. Vanitas frowned and looked away from the window towards the blackboard bearing the evidence of a previous lesson. Had he actually _ scared _her away?

No, definitely not. She wasn’t afraid of confrontation by any means. But then what was keeping her? Distantly, he could feel vague emotions. Distress, anger, sadness, frustration, loneliness, desire, and melancholy, but all of them came from the same general direction. He could no longer pinpoint emotions at a distance anymore. In the same room, it was easier to tell who was feeling what, but since the cracks in his heart had been glued together by Sora’s childish hands, slapped on the back, and pronounced ‘good as new!’ he hadn’t been able to distinguish feelings as confidently as he used to.

It was a worthwhile sacrifice for no pain, but it frustrated him to be bombarded with all these _ feelings _and no one to blame them for. He glared at the door, where surely somewhere on the long hallway was somebody being a miserable shit. Two somebodies, if he was separating the feelings correctly.

“Uhm,” Xion said, breaking the silence. Vanitas watched her from the corner of his eye as she frowned, scratching at her nose. “So, is Aqua coming or should we find her or…?”

Vanitas snorted._ ”Find _her? What for? Take the free time and go do something else.”

Ven, predictably, frowned. Vanitas wished he’d pick a side on defending her or arguing with her. “Maybe she’s busy with something.”

“Far as I’m concerned, class is over,” Vanitas said, turning his attention back to the window. He hadn’t gotten far on the grounds yet, but according to Terra, who sometimes spoke to empty air when in the same room as Vanitas, there were more waterfalls and a field of fireflies. He wanted to find them, if just to sate his curious appetite. 

He heard minute shuffling, and then, “I’m going to go find her,” Xion said. 

He could feel her waiting, and Ven made some nice pleasant remark, but when he continued to ignore her she left, the door shutting with a faint thud behind her.

Predictably, Ven didn’t even wait for her to walk away. “What did you do to Aqua?”

Vanitas groaned, leaning his head back to glare at the ceiling as he dragged it out. “Seriously? You think I’m why she’s not here?”

“I think you did _ something,” _Ven hissed. Vanitas lolled his head to his shoulder to watch him, not bothering to move his hair when it fell over one eye. Less of the annoying brat he had to see, frankly. 

“I mind my business,” Vanitas sniffed, as both a backhanded comment towards Ven’s busybody nature and a truthful statement. Vanitas _ had _been minding his business. No one asked Miss Priss to haul him to her room or cast spells on him. 

“That’s such a lie,” Ven muttered under his breath. Then, louder, “Well, something happened. Are you going to say it or do we have to spend an hour fighting over it?”

That was particularly tempting, since Vanitas always loved a good argument, and winding Ven up to one was as easy as breathing. “Sounds like a good way to kill time to me,” Vanitas grinned, sharp and threatening. Ven’s green glare was like a tasty morsel just waiting to be snatched up. He made it too easy.

“Tell me what happened,” Ven demanded, voice lined with steel and cold air, like the frost of a subzero climate. He radiated sheer irritation. 

“I already did, weren’t you listening?” Vanitas rolled his head straight, then back to the other side. It was a very bright day, making him squint against the sun’s rays. Perpetual wind tugged on the flags and leaves of the foliage, and for almost a second Vanitas could imagine it on his skin. All of a sudden, the room felt suffocating. 

“Stop screwing around and just spit it out!” Ven snapped.

“And what if I don’t _ want _ to?” Vanitas retorted, good humor fading on the increasingly itchy feeling beneath his skin. Frustration from Ven, his _ own _ frustration _ at _ Ven, and even with himself was all beginning to build. What the hell had happened? How had he gone from teasing Ven to suddenly devolving into _ this _ so fast? What was _ wrong _with him?

“You already know what’ll happen,” Ven growled, and Vanitas grew cold.

They’d kick him out. They’d force him to leave. They’d all gang up on him, and he knew his limits, he knew he’d never be able to take them all at once, and with his whole heart there were no second chances, they’d beat him and put him down once and for all and as insidiously tempting as that was, fear gripped his heart so tight it stopped, breath seizing in his lungs as the warmth of constant meals, of someone knowing his favorite foods, of _ having _favorite foods, of bubble baths and Sora and Ven and his own room were threatened, all at once. 

He was on his feet and winded and dizzy before he knew it, slamming his hand against the wall to steady himself as his vision spun. He’d miscalculated, it was too late, but that was fine, all he had to do was leave first and everything would hurt and matter less, he could head east to the waterfalls and fireflies Terra had told him about, and from there the whole universe spread out. He’d find some place and food somehow, and he’d be more than fine. He’d survive, it was what he’d been trained to do time and again, despite all odds.

“Vanitas? Are you okay?”

Ven’s words came to him as if from down that tunnel again, distant, and he felt _ close, _with concern and fear mixing into a cocktail that rammed his own feelings up exponentially, until he was choking on them with familiar, engorged vulnerability.

Not here, Vanitas thought, shaking his head. He couldn’t be sick, _ not here, _not where anyone could see. He had to go, find his room, get his things before they all got to him first. Ven touched his shoulder and Vanitas shoved him away so hard he heard him fall into the nearby desks, but he didn’t look to see what damages he’d wrought.

He shot out like a star from the room, and despite the halls and floors spinning under his step, he’d beat the layout of the castle into his very nerves just in case. 

The cool tile of his conjoined bathroom with Sora pressed into his knees as he bent over the toilet and threw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the consequences of pushing down acknowledging the things that scared you deeply forcibly come out when you least expect it, ft Vanitas in Denial! (I'm sorry)
> 
> Emotional progress, mayhaps. Depends on how brave they can be. 
> 
> May.... may have to increase that chapter count, hm. But there's only one more line in the rhyme...!


End file.
